Draco Malfoy's Point of View Philosopher's Stone
by VMorticia
Summary: Like the title says - Draco's point of view on the events in the Harry Potter books. Has been edited in light of new information from Order of the Phoenix, but there's no real spoilers yet.
1. The Famous Harry Potter

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's. Also, Cackle's Academy belongs to the Worst Witch.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spacing, spelling and grammar, but I've edited out mention of Draco's birthday, and changed the date at the start of this chapter. Also, if I have any avid fans, you might want to read it through again anyway, to re-acquaint yourselves with Draco's first few years.  
  
Chapter 1 - The Famous Harry Potter  
  
I woke up early on the morning of the first of July, with an odd feeling ... mixed dread and excited anticipation. I knew I would get my letter inviting me to Hogwarts today ... I also knew that I would get the results of my exams from primary school today, as well. If I had failed, it would probably mean trouble, even if I did get the Hogwarts letter.  
  
I snuck out of my bedroom, and downstairs - I found three letters waiting in the living room, with their respective owls. I paid the owls, and shooed them away. I opened the Hogwarts letter, as it was addressed to me, and no one would mind if it was opened ... I wanted desperately to see what the second letter said, but I didn't dare touch a letter address to my father without express permission. I had no idea what the third letter was about, but it, too, was address to my father, and I wasn't about to mess with it, either.  
  
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Hogwarts letter included a copy of my exam results - I had been hoping that this would be the case ... Hogwarts would have wanted to see how well I had done at my previous school, and they had told me that I had been accepted with honours, on the grounds that I had passed all my exams with flying colours (literally) - and they were looking forwards to teaching such an intelligent pupil. I smiled and returned to my room, with the letter. I re-read it again and again, to make sure I had read it right ... I had been afraid that I might have failed.  
  
I had, of course, attended an all-magical primary school, where they automatically assumed that all students were well versed in knowledge of Quidditch and other similar magical things. This school only admitted children of magical families. However, they still taught almost the same curriculum as Muggle primary schools, because most witches and wizards only start to display magical powers at around the age of ten or eleven. Maths was my worst subject, but Basic Potions (which is pretty close to Muggle Chemistry), and Magical Physics were my best classes, and I had once managed to turn another student's toy broomstick into a rat, so I definitely wasn't a Squib. My father seemed particularly pleased that day, when my class teacher had visited, to tell him that he should teach his son not to be so cruel, for the rat incident. Now that's irony.  
  
I thought, for a while, about what my father had told me about Hogwarts - if I even mentioned the word 'Hogwarts' to my father, he would start telling long and detailed stories of his own times at the wizarding school. There were four houses, and which house you were put in decided how everyone saw you. They were always listed in this order: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, but I seem to get the impression, from my father, that they should be listed in the opposite order, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and lastly Gryffindor.  
  
From what I've been told, Slytherin is the BEST house to be in - the intelligent, cunning, ambitious, and most successful witches and wizards are all in Slytherin. Ravenclaw are all right, a bit bookish, and ever so slightly nerdy, but generally all right. Hufflepuff are a lot of old duffers, really dull and boring ... the sort who believe that hard work is the key to success - ha - anyone with half a brain could figure out that if you want to be successful you've got to make somebody else do all the hard work and then take credit for it! So in a way, you could conceive that Hufflepuffs had a use, in that respect. Then there's the Gryffindors - they are generally considered to be the best - most people seemed to think that these flamboyant, so-called-brave, generally stupid, intent on suicidal heroism, and notably Muggle-loving fools are so brilliant. They aren't of course. Slytherin is definitely the house I want to be in.  
  
I heard a noise outside, and then a knock on my door. I glanced at my clock, which now said 'time for breakfast', and I was quite surprised that I had been awake for so long ... it had said 'go back to sleep, it's four in the morning' when I had retuned to my room with the letter. I then heard my mother's voice, through the door, "Draco, dear... it's time to get up."  
  
I called back to her, "I'm already awake, Mother. I'll be down in a few minutes." I knew well enough that I had no need to shout ... my room is completely sound-proof, unless I wanted to be heard outside it, and if I wanted to be heard, she could have heard me if I had whispered. I dressed myself quickly, in some of my better clothes, including my favourite dress robes, which my mother had bought for me, as a Christmas present, last year. I looked in the mirror, to check that I looked presentable - the robes suited me - they were black velvet, with a dark green lining, magically lightweight, considering the material, and silver detail around the hems. I brushed my hair, which really didn't need it, and then rushed downstairs, as fast as I could, to the main dining room.  
  
* * *  
  
As I expected, my mother and father were both waiting for me. Father was holding both of the other two letters I had seen earlier, and reading the unidentified one. He looked up, and smiled at me, "Good morning, Draco."  
  
"Good morning, Father." I responded, politely - always best to be polite to my father, especially if he's in a good mood, best he stays in a good mood.  
  
"Good morning, Draco." my mother said, beaming.  
  
"Do you have your Hogwarts letter? It should have arrived today, and it's not with the other post." Father asked, conversationally.  
  
"Yes, Father, I have it. I've been accepted with honours, they said." I smiled, and handed the letter to him.  
  
He read it, and his smile broadened, "Clever, Draco ... you seemed to have found a way of discovering your exam results before I did ... very clever ... and completely within the rules ... I must say, I've taught you well." he handed the Hogwarts letter back to me, and continued, "I assume, then, that you don't want to see this?" he asked, holding up the letter that I knew perfectly well had my exam results on it.  
  
"I don't need to see it, no, Father." I answered, sitting down, and helping myself to some pancakes, which the house-elf had just brought to the table.  
  
"I think, you might be interested in this, Draco." I looked up to see that he was now holding up the other letter, having put my exam results in his pocket.  
  
I looked at the piece of parchment, hoping that I might be able to tell what it was, but to no avail - it was completely devoid of any identification that could be seen from my current position, "What is it, Father?" I asked, when I had decided I had no idea what it was.  
  
"It is a letter of acceptance for Durmstrang Institute of Wizardry," he answered. I wondered, why he would want me to go to that school - he had always seemed so keen on the idea of me going to Hogwarts.  
  
"Oh, Lucius, please!" Mother cried, standing up and looking at him, with a plaintive expression, "I thought we had discussed this! I really don't want Draco to go to that school - it's so far away!"  
  
"I think it should be his choice," he said to her, making a calming motion and directing her back to her seat. "Draco." I turned my full attention to him, instead of my mother.  
  
"Yes, Father?"  
  
"You can choose from these two schools - Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Durmstrang teaches an impressive Dark Arts course, and it has a strict Pure-blood policy on both students and teachers - none of the Mudblood riff-raff that you would find at Hogwarts ... in fact, a friend of mine, who transferred to Hogwarts from Durmstrang once described it as 'an entire school of Slytherins'." he paused for a moment, and glanced at my mother, then said, "- of course it would be quite far away, and it is a relatively inhospitable climate - Hogwarts has an impeccable standard of learning in other areas, but their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes really are pathetic - we will let you choose." He then handed me the Durmstrang letter, and I looked at it for a few minutes.  
  
I looked up at him, and said, "I'll need some time to think about it. I had always thought you wanted me to go to Hogwarts?"  
  
"You choose - you deserve the right to decide where you will have your own education, at this age." Mother said. I nodded, dumbly, and then finished my breakfast in silence.  
  
* * *  
  
I left the table as soon as possible, and took both letters up to my room. They both contained a prospectus for their school. I read both of them from cover to cover. It didn't help much - they both looked appealing, for different reasons, most of which my father had already mentioned. I finally decided that I would go to Hogwarts - I had always assumed that I would go there, anyway - also, I had heard my father telling me, often enough, about Slytherin pride, and I wanted to uphold the family tradition, as a Slytherin. When I re-appeared in the dining room, at lunchtime, my father asked, "Have you decided yet?" without even looking at me.  
  
"Yes." I said, and then hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "I want to go to Hogwarts."  
  
He looked up at me, mildly surprised, I think, then said, "Very well, then ... you will go to Hogwarts." he turned his attention back to his food, and proceeded to completely ignore me for the whole afternoon.  
  
* * *  
  
I had to go to Pansy's birthday party that evening. All my schoolmates were there, including some of the ones I would rather have avoided - Pansy herself, for a start - she is the most annoying girl I have ever met, and what's worse, I think she liked me. Then there were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - everyone, and I do mean everyone, calls them Crabbe and Goyle, even their own family - it's really strange, but they don't seem to mind, so that's just what we call them. Those two are O.K., but they are so stupid, it really is unbelievable. They sort of started hanging around me since I first started primary school, and they haven't had a mind of their own, between them, since - they won't do something unless they're told to, and they'll do whatever I tell them - it's almost comical - I sometimes wonder if they would jump in front of a train if I told them to - they probably would, you know. Those three are the only ones, from my old school, who are going to Hogwarts - the rest were all going to Durmstrang, or Cackle's (which is a private school for witchcraft, somewhere in the south of England) - I was actually glad to get rid of most of them, but I wished Pansy would go somewhere else, as well. I think she only chose to go to Hogwarts because she knew that's where I was going - she either really likes me or she really wants to torture me - maybe both ... either way, this birthday party was the last time I saw most of my old school friends - I won't bore you with the details, because this story is about Hogwarts.  
  
* * *  
  
My father soon seemed to forget all about Durmstrang, and life returned to normal, over the rest of the holidays. In August, both my parents took me to Diagon Alley - I had been there many times before (and Knockturn Alley, as well) - to buy my school things. We bought my wand, first, at Ollivander's. Ollivander is a strange old man, he must have a photographic memory, or maybe he uses a memory enhancing charm, because he was able to recite the exact specifications of my mother's wand, and the four wands my father bought there (he broke his first wand in his sixth year at school, his second a year before I was born, and his third when I was five). The thirteenth wand I tried was perfect. It was ebony, with a unicorn tail-hair, and it cost thirteen galleons. An expensive wand, but we could easily afford it - we are one of the wealthiest wizarding families in the world, after all. Thirteen has always been my lucky number, and it seems to show up in a lot of things that I do - Mother says it's probably my sub-conscious, magically influencing the world around me. Mother stayed behind, to get a wand to replace the one that she had broken (I'm not sure how, but I think she may have thrown it at the house-elf - rotten little creature didn't have the courtesy to stand still and let the wand hit it, and her wand snapped on the wall behind the house-elf - so I was told.)  
  
"Alright, Draco, you go in here, and get your uniform, I will be next door, buying your school books." Father said.  
  
"Yes, Father." I said, and watched him walk into the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. I turned, and entered the shop next door to that, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It looked a lot more like a shop than Ollivander's had, but I knew that, anyway, because I had been here before - most of my cheaper clothes came from here (and this is the best clothes shop in Diagon Alley - you have to go abroad to Europe or America to get better).  
  
Madam Malkin, a dumpy old witch, appeared almost immediately and asked me, "Ah, young Master Malfoy. Here to buy your Hogwarts robes, then?"  
  
"Yes." I said imperiously. She already knew me very well. Well she should - she gets in special orders for me, very often - all the latest fashions, as they come out - I get them around the same time that the magazines publish the fact that they are the latest trend.  
  
"If you'll just stand up here, so I can measure these, then." she said, holding a set of rather dull looking robes. 'Oh, well,' I thought, 'all the other kids will be wearing them, so at least I won't be the only one who looks a fool in these.' I stepped up onto the stool, and she threw the robes over my head. She set about pinning them up to the right length, and it was then that I heard someone else enter the shop. I looked up, and saw a boy with black hair and glasses ... obviously young, probably about my age ... from the looks of those clothes, he seemed poorer than a Weasley, and that really is saying something - not just that, though, but those were Muggle clothes. 'Ugh - I don't want to be around a Mudblood,' I thought, 'Oh, great.' She told him to stand up next to me ... I assumed he must be my age, if he was being fitted for Hogwarts robes, as well.  
  
"Hello," I said, trying to sound like I wanted to talk to him - always be polite to someone you don't know, until you're absolutely certain you hate them, "Hogwarts, too?"  
  
"Yes," the boy answered. He sounded O.K. I'd never met a Mudblood before - he sounded like any other boy. 'Maybe he is a real wizard,' I thought.  
  
I decided to try talk to him, "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands, Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." He didn't answer. "Have you got your own broom?"  
  
"No,"  
  
'He's really friendly,' I thought sarcastically. "Play Quidditch at all?" I asked, trying to sound like I hadn't noticed how exceedingly rude he was being.  
  
"No,"  
  
'Is he only capable of saying 'yes' and 'no'?' I thought. "I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"  
  
"No,"  
  
'Maybe he is a Mudblood,' I thought, then. But still continued. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Mmm,"  
  
'Wow - he actually made a sound that wasn't a 'yes' or a 'no'!' I thought. He really was beginning to try my patience. I saw someone, outside, waving, maniacally, holding ice creams, and looking completely crazy, "I say, look at that man!" I said, trying to find something to get this boy to actually talk.  
  
"That's Hagrid," he said, "He works at Hogwarts." I remembered Father saying something about Hagrid - he was expelled, and kept on as some sort of menial worker.  
  
"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" I said.  
  
"He's the gamekeeper," now, I thought he sounded deliberately rude, here, but I wasn't sure.  
  
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." I thought this might actually be considered funny - obviously he didn't think so.  
  
"I think he's brilliant," he said, with a definite icy tone, in his voice.  
  
"Do you?" I had decided I didn't much like this boy, and I was showing it, in the tone of my voice, now, "Why, is he with you? Where are your parents?"  
  
"They're dead,"  
  
'Dead?' I thought - I really had no idea what to say to someone who had just told me their parents were dead ... I hadn't met many people who's parents were dead, nor for that matter, had I met ANY people who would just say so, like that. "Oh, sorry," I said, not really sure if it sounded believable, but I'm not good at saying that word, "But they were our kind, weren't they?" well you didn't expect me not to ask, did you?  
  
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."  
  
'So he is a wizard, then,' I thought, 'well at least I've not been talking to a Mudblood - probably raised by Muggles, though, if you look at the clothes - pity him, really.' "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"  
  
I really wanted to know what family he was from, but Madam Malkin spoke before he could answer, "That's you done, my dear,"  
  
He seemed in quite a hurry to go, and I just had time to say, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," before he had left. I spent the next ten minutes wondering who he was, but forgot all about him quite promptly upon arriving at Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Father did buy me several of the things I had asked for, including a book called 'A Guide to Quidditch Strategies, and How to Get Away with Cheating', but he refused to buy me a broomstick.  
  
"You can have a broom when you are playing for your house team." he said, quite firmly. That basically translated as 'not until next year'. It took a full five minutes for him to drag me away from staring at the latest model of racing broom - a Nimbus 2000. After that, we went to Eeylops Owl Emporium, where Father bought me an eagle owl - the best owl they had in the whole shop. It's still not as good as the one Father uses for his Ministry work, but it's got to be an awful lot better than anything any other student is likely to have. We met Mother back at the Leaky Cauldron, and returned home, using Floo powder. I spent the rest of the holidays reading my new books.  
  
* * *  
  
"Draco, dear. The train leaves in an hour. You need to get ready." Mother's voice woke me up, on the first of September.  
  
I looked at my clock, which said, 'wake up, you lazy boy - it's already ten in the morning'. "I'm awake, Mother" I called back. I heard her footsteps receding down the corridor, and I then got dressed, in the clothes I was going to wear at school - the clothes I would wear under my robes, that is - my robes were all packed into my trunk, already. I looked at myself, in the mirror - I do that every day - and checked that the clothes looked right - black trousers, and a deep green sweater - all the best quality, most expensive, designer labels - I wore green because I was certain that I would be in Slytherin.  
  
I hurried downstairs, almost tripping up, as I skidded into the dining room. Mother was there, but I think Father was at work, already. I ate my breakfast, hurriedly, not really paying attention to what I was eating, because I was too excited about starting Hogwarts, today. When I had finished, Mother said, "Well, well, Draco - I am surprised."  
  
I looked at her, confusion showing on my face, "Why, Mother?"  
  
"Well, you ate everything on your plate - you really must not have been paying attention, or you would have noticed that there were mushrooms there." she said, smiling.  
  
I made a gagging noise, and when I had finished unsuccessfully trying to be sick I asked, "Why'd you do that?"  
  
"I didn't - it was Dobby's fault, but I just didn't mention it," she said.  
  
"Urg - you know I hate mushrooms." I said, quite annoyed, now.  
  
"Yes, but you didn't seem to mind, until I told you, now did you?" she said, triumphantly, as if she had accomplished the impossible - really, she probably had - getting me to do something I wouldn't normally want to is a major achievement. "You'd better hurry up, Draco. The train will be leaving in fifteen minutes, and you have to get to the station."  
  
"Big deal - Floo Powder, right?" I said. She nodded, "Then we've still got time."  
  
"Not really - get your things, we're going now," she said. Reluctantly, I returned to my room, and dragged my trunk down the stairs, to the fireplace. Mother was waiting for me, and we had five minutes left before the train was due to depart. She threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped forwards with my trunk, and said, "King's Cross, Platform Nine-and-three-quarters". I was sure I had heard wrong, but I wasn't about to go to the wrong grate, so I repeated her exact words as I stepped into the fireplace myself.  
  
* * *  
  
I found myself on Platform Nine-and-three-quarters - there was a large scarlet steam train with the words 'Hogwarts Express' on it, and hundreds of children and their parents were milling around the platform. Obviously I had heard right. We made our way to the nearest door onto the train, and Mother helped me lift my trunk up onto the luggage rack, before hugging me and telling me to owl her as often as I could. As the train pulled out, I waved to her and then sat back down again. I had no sooner sat down than the door to my compartment opened and Pansy appeared.  
  
"Hello, Draco." she said, smiling that sickly sweet smile that always reminds me of a demented pixie (I mean that literally - that smile always makes me think of a Cornish Pixie that got on the wrong side of a Dementor).  
  
"Hello, Pansy." I said, trying my best to sound like I really didn't want to talk to her - this was quite easy because I really DIDN'T want to talk to her.  
  
She obviously didn't notice - or didn't care, "So, how are you, then, Draco?"  
  
"I was in a very good mood, before you arrived." I said.  
  
"And what's wrong, now?" she asked, sounding almost concerned.  
  
"You. I don't want to talk to you, right now." I said, trying to sound diplomatic - which is difficult when someone is really bugging you like this.  
  
"Oh … well, I was thinking -" she started.  
  
"What part of 'I don't want to talk to you' don't you understand?" I snapped, "Is it the 'don't', or the 'you'? I know that you know what the words 'want' and 'talk' mean. Just leave me alone, Pansy."  
  
"Humph - well if you're going to be rude -"  
  
"I am - now go away." I said coldly. She stormed off, probably going to annoy someone else - pity them, whoever they are.  
  
Not five minutes passed before Crabbe and Goyle showed up - I guess it took their slow brains this long to work out where I was, as we were already out of London now. "Hello, Malfoy." I hate that they call me Malfoy - my name is Draco, but I guess everyone calls them by their last names, so they call everyone else by their last names, too.  
  
"What took you two so long?" I asked.  
  
"We - er - were attacked by a tarantula." Goyle said.  
  
"A third year dropped it on us, and it nearly bit me." Crabbe said - their dull monotone voices making their lack of intelligence blatantly obvious.  
  
I snorted, and pointed them to the seat opposite me. "Sit." I said, as if I was ordering a dog - they seem to take orders best in that form. They sat. I reached up into my trunk, in the luggage rack, and took out my Transfiguration textbook. I started reading, while Crabbe and Goyle just stared into space, looking completely devoid of any form of intelligence - it amazes me how anyone can be quite that stupid and still appear human.  
  
After a while, a woman with a snack trolley appeared outside the compartment, "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked.  
  
I looked at Crabbe and Goyle, who just continued to look like stupidity incarnate. I then turned to her and said, "A box of every flavour beans, and three chocolate frogs."  
  
"Certainly, dear." she handed me the sweets, and I paid her. She left, and I threw two of the chocolate frogs at Crabbe and Goyle. Amazingly, they caught them - they may be stupid, but they do have good reflexes - they'd probably make good Beaters, if they ever played Quidditch - if it weren't for the fact that they would never be able to follow a game plan. Anyway - they each ate their chocolate frogs in one bite, and started into the every flavour beans - I really have never met anyone who can eat quite as much as these two. The beans had all disappeared before I had even half eaten my own chocolate frog.  
  
I was just about to start reading, again, when I heard some noise outside the compartment, and a girl looked in. She had bushy brown hair and brown eyes - not bad-looking, actually - and was wearing the basic black robes that indicated she hadn't been Sorted, yet, "Have either of you seen a toad? Only a boy named Neville has lost one." her voice was pretty snobbish - on first impressions, I liked this girl.  
  
"Who would want a toad? If I brought a toad to school, I'd be keen to lose it," she looked a bit miffed, so I added, "No, I haven't seen a toad."  
  
"Oh … well, if you do, could you please tell us? We're in the compartment right next to yours," she asked.  
  
"Sure. No problem." I said, smiling. She left, and I went to see where all the noise was coming from.  
  
I looked out the door, and saw a group of - probably third years - muttering about something. I would guess that two of them were Weasleys, because of their hair. I listened for a minute. I heard only a few words of what they said - one of the Weasleys was saying, "I swear - it's not a joke - I solemnly swear that Harry Potter is on this train, right now - down there." he pointed past me, to a compartment on the opposite side of the train, "He's really here - he's starting Hogwarts this year..." I watched as the girl who had asked about the toad went to the compartment the Weasley boy had pointed to - probably asking if they've seen the toad, too.  
  
I watched for another minute, and then said, "Crabbe, Goyle. Come with me." and started walking towards the compartment.  
  
We passed the girl, in the corridor, with a crying boy - probably the one who lost the toad - anyone pathetic enough to bring a toad was probably pathetic enough to cry over it. "Did you find it, yet?" she asked.  
  
"Not yet - we heard Harry Potter was down this way..." I said, trying to sound friendly.  
  
"Yes - he's just in there." she pointed to where she had come from, and then said, "I'll see you later, then?"  
  
I nodded, and she left with the crybaby - what had she said his name was? Neville. Come to think of it, I hadn't caught her name.  
  
* * *  
  
I opened the door of the compartment, where I had been told Harry Potter was, and looked in, "Is it true?" I asked, looking at the two boys in the compartment - one was obviously a Weasley, and the other was the boy I'd met in Madam Malkin's. My gaze settled on the black haired boy, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"  
  
"Yes," the black haired boy said - so this was the famous Harry Potter.  
  
I noticed he was looking past me, at Crabbe and Goyle - they can be a bit intimidating, if you don't know them … or if they don't like you. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," I told him, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle as I said it, "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."  
  
The boy I assumed was a Weasley gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. I turned to look at him - I was used to the jokes about my name, from primary school, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Well that shut him up. I turned back to Harry Potter, "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." I held out my hand to shake his, but he didn't take it.  
  
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coldly.  
  
He was insulting me - he decided he didn't like me, without even giving me a chance. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," I said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."  
  
Both Potter and Weasley stood up. "Say that again," Weasley said angrily.  
  
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" I asked, quite surprised that they'd dare, with Crabbe and Goyle as my bodyguards.  
  
"Unless you get out now," said Potter. He sounded like a Gryffindor, 'that's probably where he'll end up - Gryffindor' I thought, 'what a waste'.  
  
"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." I said, now trying to provoke them - we'd definitely win in a straight fight, and since we never play fair, anyway, they would have had no hope of beating us.  
  
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Weasley, and suddenly yelled - there was a rat, with its teeth sunk into Goyle's hand!  
  
The minute Goyle had detached the rat from his finger, we all left and disappeared down the train. I nearly bumped into the bushy-haired girl again, but she was in a hurry, and I didn't try to stop her.  
  
* * *  
  
We returned to our own compartment, and I sank into the seat, "What did I say wrong?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle looked dumbly at me.  
  
"What did I do? Why didn't he want to be my friend? It's not like I insulted him - all I did was insult Weasley, and that's something I've been doing all my life - why is he such a prat?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle continued to look like they're brains were substituted for by cotton wool.  
  
"You two are a lot of help." I said, sarcastically, "You do realise these aren't actually rhetorical questions? I really was hoping you could tell me what I said wrong, that made him think I'm - not likeable ... well?"  
  
"No idea." they chorused, synchronously.  
  
"Fat lot of use you are." I muttered, and reverted to reading the Standard Book of Spells.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 1 


	2. Welcome To Slytherin

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar, but since J.K. Rowling was kind enought to tell us that a "weedy boy" who was seen hanging around with Draco is named Theodore Nott, I have had too change Nott's name in this fic.  
  
Chapter 2 - Welcome To Slytherin  
  
The train approached the station, and I heard a voice saying, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." The train stopped, exactly five minutes later, and we all made our way off, onto the platform.  
  
I heard a voice, calling, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" that great hairy oaf - the gamekeeper, Hagrid - and he's playing favourites … not that I'd want to be his friend anyway, but it's still not fair. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" We all followed Hagrid, away from the platform, "Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."  
  
There was a loud "Oooooh!" The path we had been following suddenly ended, abruptly, at the edge of a lake - and on the other side of the lake, was Hogwarts - it was pretty impressive, but I, personally, have seen better.  
  
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, and pointed to a large number of small boats sitting in the water by the shore. I shared a boat with Crabbe, Goyle, and a boy who said his name was Seamus Finnegan, "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"  
  
As we reached the far side of the lake, Hagrid said, "Heads down!" and we floated through a curtain of ivy and in through a sort of cave. We finally came out into some sort of underground harbour, where we all got out of the boats "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid called to the crybaby, Neville.  
  
"Trevor!" Neville called, sounding like this one little toad was the key to all his happiness - some people are simple minded. We then followed Hagrid up a walkway to the castle, where we all crowded around a large oak front door.  
  
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid asked. Then he knocked on the door, and it opened immediately.  
  
The first thing we saw inside the school building was a tall black-haired witch wearing deep green robes. She looked quite strict and seemed to give the impression that disobedience was not an option.  
  
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said to this witch.  
  
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." she responded - her voice matched her appearance - stern and strict. She pulled open the door, to allow us to enter. The Entrance Hall was as big as the ballroom in our Manor, and it was lit with torches. There was a large marble staircase in front of us, leading upstairs. As we followed this witch across the Hall, I looked around at the suits of armour and the carvings on the walls - interesting interior design - father would like it, it's very gothic. I heard voices coming from a room off the Hall to my right.  
  
We were led into an empty room, where we were given what must have been a standard announcement for new students, "Welcome to Hogwarts, The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." she scanned us, looking particularly at Neville and Weasley, "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."  
  
I listened in on the conversation between Potter and Weasley. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Potter asked.  
  
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." yeah, right - like they'd want to hurt new students - it's only Muggle clubs that are stupid enough to mutilate new members and of course ... Them, as well, but I won't think about Them - They were before my time.  
  
The bushy-haired girl was muttering about all the spells she had learnt - show off - I like people like that.  
  
Suddenly several people screamed - you'd think they'd never seen a ghost before - of course some of them probably hadn't. "What the -?" several other people asked. A group of ghosts had appeared, and were in the middle of a debate about ... someone called Peeves.  
  
"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance -"  
  
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"  
  
"New students!" the Fat Friar said, "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" several people nodded. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he said, "My old house, you know."  
  
'Fat chance, Fat Friar,' I thought.  
  
"Move along now," Professor McGonagall's voice called, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." the ghosts left, slowly. "Now, form a line, and follow me," she said. I stood third in the line, behind Pansy and another boy, who's name I didn't yet know. We walk out of the room, across the Entrance Hall, and in through the doors I had heard voices from.  
  
The Great Hall was spectacular. Even by my standards, this was great. The Hall was lit by thousands of candles floating above the tables, and the ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky. There were four long tables one for each house all laid with golden plates and goblets, and a fifth table at the end of the Hall, where all the teachers sat.  
  
The bushy-haired girl whispered to everyone within earshot, about the ceiling, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." I'd bet she's probably the only other first year here that's actually read that book. I've read it, of course, but that's because I like reading and Hogwarts is an interesting place.  
  
Professor McGonagall set a four-legged stool at the front of the Hall, where everyone had a clear view of it, and then placed a particularly old, worn and patched up wizard's hat on the stool. After a few seconds the Hat started to sing, a bit off key, but not exactly horrible:  
  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
  
But don't judge on what you see,  
  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
  
A smarter hat than me.  
  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
  
And I can cap them all.  
  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
  
So try me on and I will tell you  
  
Where you ought to be.  
  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,  
  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
  
Where they are just and loyal,  
  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,  
  
And unafraid of toil;  
  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
  
If you've a ready mind,  
  
Where those of wit and learning,  
  
Will always find their kind;  
  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
  
You'll make your real friends,  
  
Those cunning folk use any means  
  
To achieve their ends.  
  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
  
And don't get in a flap!  
  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"  
  
After the applause died down, Professor McGonagall held up a roll of parchment, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," 'Simple as that' I thought - well I knew it wouldn't be dangerous.  
  
"Abbott, Hannah!"  
  
A girl with blonde pigtails, and slightly chubby cheeks ran forward, and put on the hat it covered her eyes and sat there silently, for a few seconds before shouting: "HUFFLEPUFF!" The table on the right - it must have been the Hufflepuff table - cheered as the girl ran over to it.  
  
"Bones, Susan!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Boot, Terry!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!" The second table from the left cheered, this time, as the boy ran over to them.  
  
"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Brown, Lavender!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" The table on the far left cheered, as the first Gryffindor ran over to them.  
  
"Bulstrode, Millicent!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" The second table from the right cheered, as the relatively ugly girl made her way to it.  
  
"Crabbe, Vincent!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Feral, Catarina!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Finnigan, Seamus!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Goyle, Gregory!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Granger, Hermione!" The bushy-haired girl, who I had met on the train ran forward, eagerly, and put the hat on her head.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" Now that was a surprise - I really had thought she would have been a Ravenclaw.  
  
"Longbottom, Neville!" Crybaby with the toad... I'd bet on Hufflepuff.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!" Well I'll be - totally amazed, I mean - never would have thought such a wimp could be classed as brave. And the idiot ran off to the Gryffindor table wearing the hat!  
  
"MacDougal, Morag!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Malfoy, Draco!" That's me! I walked forward, really not understanding why all the others had run up and down like idiots, sat on the stool, and lowered the hat to my head - it didn't even touch me! Not so much as messed up my hair, before it called out "SLYTHERIN!" and I walked happily to the Slytherin table, and sat with Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"Moon, Alexander!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Nott, Theodore!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Parkinson, Pansy!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Patil, Padma!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Patil, Pavarti!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Perks, Sally-Anne!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Potter, Harry!" This announcement was followed by a lot of muttering, mostly people asking if this was THE Harry Potter. Potter walked up to the stool, and put the Hat on. It took ages to decide where to put him. He sat there for almost five minutes. Finally, it called out:  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Thomas, Dean!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Turpin, Lisa!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
"Weasley, Ronald!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Zabini, Blaise!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
  
And that, as they say, is that. The Sorting was over, and Professor McGonagall removed the Hat and stool.  
  
* * *  
  
The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, stood at this point, and said, "Welcome. Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"  
  
I sniggered quietly - very few people laughed at this - I thought it was funny. As soon as Dumbledore sat down, food magically appeared on the empty dishes. There was roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some unknown reason, peppermint humbugs. Good selection.  
  
As I started into the steak I had taken, I sensed someone in the seat beside me. I knew no one had been there when the Sorting had finished, and I wondered who it was. I turned round and saw a ghost - he was pretty gruesome, and that's even by ghost standards - He had long what-was-once-black-but-was-now-ghost-coloured curly hair, like the sort you would imagine a high class pirate might have, and his translucent robes were covered in silvery blood - you would tend to wonder where that blood came from, and also wonder whether or not you actually wanted to know the answer to the first question. The ghosts at the other three tables, I noticed, were very talkative and friendly, but this one just stared into space - a bit like Crabbe or Goyle, except creepier. I shuddered and turned back to my food, trying to ignore him, as he was quite clearly ignoring me.  
  
When the desserts arrived, everyone started talking about their families - there were no Mudbloods in Slytherin house that I was aware of - I think there might have been one or two, but they were intelligent enough to keep quiet about it. Blaise seemed like the sort of girl I would like, but Pansy had already told all the girls to stay away from me, she says I'm hers. Ha! In her dreams, maybe - but be that as it may, all the other girls are actually listening to her. One of the prefects introduced himself to me, at this point - Marcus Flint. He had this to say, "See that ghost there?" he was pointing at the ghost next to me - the one that scared even me, a bit, "He's called the Bloody Baron, and you'd do well to get on his good side, 'cause he can control Peeves. Peeves the Poltergeist could otherwise be referred to as a force of nature indoors. Peeves is the most disruptive creature in the school, with the possible exception of the Weasley twins."  
  
I snorted at the mention of the Weasleys - so they fancy themselves troublemakers, do they?  
  
"And then, of course, you've got to look out for Filch and his cat - those two can cause you even more trouble than Peeves in a bad mood, and what's worse is that they're always in the right, too - Filch is the caretaker, and Mrs Norris - that's his cat - has some sort of connection with him, 'cause he can show up within seconds of her spotting someone up to no good."  
  
"I'll be careful, then." I said, implying that I was going to be up to all sorts of mischief, and not planning on getting caught. Of course, I'm not that stupid - I had no plans to break the rules - getting other people into trouble they don't deserve is much more fun.  
  
At that moment, Dumbledore rose from his seat again, and everyone stopped talking to pay attention to him, "Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." He glanced at the Weasley twins, definitely, "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."  
  
"Seriously!" I asked.  
  
"Yeah - Dumbledore doesn't joke about that sort of thing - wonder what he means, 'die a very painful death'?" Flint said.  
  
"Probably that there's something painful and deadly in the corridor?" I suggested.  
  
"Smart arse." Flint grumbled.  
  
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore said, and the other teachers did not seem too pleased with this suggestion. Words appeared out of Dumbledore's wand, and he said, "Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!"  
  
Everybody sang in different keys, pitches, and rhythms - it sounded horrible:  
  
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
  
Teach us something please,  
  
Whether we be old and bald  
  
Or young with scabby knees,  
  
Our heads could do with filling  
  
With some interesting stuff,  
  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
  
And learn until our brains all rot."  
  
Everyone stopped singing at different times, (I hadn't even bothered trying to sing - it sounded dreadful, and I didn't want to be part of such a horrific noise.) The Weasley twins finished last, because they had been singing to a funeral march.  
  
"Ah, music," Dumbledore said, "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"  
  
Flint lead the first year Slytherins down, towards the dungeons, to what seemed to me like a blank wall. I wondered why we had stopped here, when, for no apparent reason, Flint said, "Avarice." and at this word, which I assumed must be a password, the wall in front of us opened, and revealed the Slytherin common room.  
  
* * *  
  
It was a long, low room, with rough stone walls, and tapestries hung over most of the walls. The main feature of the room was a large, ornately carved stone fireplace. There were several lamps, glowing green, a large number of dark green armchairs dotted around the room, and the fire in the grate had a greenish tinge to it. Well they certainly go in for house colours, here, I see.  
  
"Boys' dormitories, through that door, there! Girls' dormitories through the other door, over there!" Flint called, "Now get lost, all of you! I don't want to see any of you until tomorrow! Your luggage will all be in your rooms!" friendly, isn't he? Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and I all made our way down the corridor Flint had directed us to, and found a door marked with a plaque, 'First-Year Boys.' We entered the room, and I was anything but surprised to see that it was decorated in green. I found my bed, right away - my trunk was already at the foot of my bed, as Flint had said. Nott claimed his bed, quickly too. Crabbe and Goyle squabbled over who was going to get which bed for a full five minutes, before Nott pointed out that their trunks at the foot of the bed indicated which one belonged to who. I had been quite enjoying watching them make bigger idiots of themselves than usual, but didn't say anything. I liked this place, already. I lay awake for about an hour, thinking how well most of the day had gone - with the obvious exception of meeting Potter on the train, and making him hate me, without even trying - I always could make people hate me, quite easily (with the obvious exception of Pansy, who I have been trying to get rid of for years) but I've never made someone hate me, without trying to, before. I fell asleep, still wondering exactly why he hated me, and in my dreams, I came up with the answer: He was a Gryffindor - a born Gryffindor - and no Gryffindor could ever be friends with a Malfoy - they are all Muggle-loving fools, every single one of them.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 2 


	3. Astronomy and Potions

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's. Also, Noctowl's name belongs to Pokemon.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar, but there was one continuity error regarding Noctowl, that has also been fixed … and Transfiguration is now on the first floor, rather than the second.  
  
Chapter 3 - Astronomy and Potions  
  
I woke up, the next day, and it took me a few seconds to remember where I was - 'oh, yeah... Hogwarts' I thought, and looked at my clock, which I had brought with me - it said, 'Wake up - it's eight in the morning - don't you have classes today?' 'Now, who told it that?' I wondered. I reached down to my trunk at the foot of my bed, and took out a set of school robes, pulled the curtains around my bed again, and got changed. I then looked in the mirror in our dorm - all four of us have to share this mirror - of course, that about adds up to me sharing it with Nott - because I don't think Crabbe and Goyle know what a mirror is. I glanced at the other three boys - they were still all asleep - I wasn't about to wake them, if they wanted to get in trouble for being late for class, that's their prerogative. I unnecessarily preened my hair, as usual, before leaving to see if I could find my way back to the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
The corridors were unfamiliar, even though I had taken a mental note of the route we took down to the common room last night. It was as if the layout of the castle had shifted, somehow. Actually, it had - the staircase that had previously led from the dungeons to the entrance hall now led to a different corridor, and several doors that had been very co-operative last night refused to open. I decided to stop thinking about how to get where I was going, and follow my instincts - I always had a good sense of direction. It wasn't long, then, until I came to the Great Hall. I had been wandering around for about twenty minutes. The Hall was quite crowded, as I sat down at the Slytherin table. About ten minutes later, Crabbe and Goyle showed up - I was surprised that they found their way here - they probably asked a prefect to tell them the way. Professor Snape was handing out timetables. I looked at mine: Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, today. I noticed that, on Monday nights, Slytherins had Astronomy - this was a Monday, so that meant that I had to stay up late on my first night... Damn!  
  
At that moment, I was distracted from these thoughts, as the Hall suddenly went quite, except for the excited whispers that indicated only one thing: The famous Harry Potter had entered the room. Big bloody deal. I pointedly ignored him, while the rest of the Hall started muttering rumours and stories about him - what exactly was so great about this boy, anyway? I have no idea what happened, any better than anyone else here does, but I can say for certain, that a one-year-old baby could NOT have done what he did without some sort of help. Therefore he wasn't the one who defeated the Dark Lord - whoever saved his life was - don't these people know what logic is? I would have expected better of the Ravenclaws - the other Slytherins are the only ones who aren't fussing over the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. But that's probably only because he's a Gryffindor... all Slytherins hate all Gryffindors.  
  
At that moment, I heard a rustling noise, and about a hundred owls flew into the Great Hall. The eagle owl my father had bought for me in Diagon Alley, Noctowl, flew down, with a letter from my mother. She wanted to remind me to write to her. How sweet. Really, she does worry about me a bit too much. But I will write back to make her happy.   
  
* * *  
  
After breakfast, I looked at the timetable - Transfiguration in room 162. That's on the first floor. I started up the first staircase I came to, and followed my instincts - this worked, quite effectively. I found the correct room pretty quickly, and since Crabbe and Goyle were doing their usual impersonation of my shadow, they found their way there, too. The class was waiting outside. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. I spotted Pansy chatting with a group of Slytherin girls, and those girls were quite carefully being avoided by the Hufflepuffs. I walked over in the direction of the Hufflepuffs, intent on avoiding Pansy, myself. Unfortunately, the Hufflepuffs seemed to be avoiding Slytherins, in general. I didn't really want to socialise with them anyway, but I honestly would prefer to talk to Hufflepuffs than Pansy. Luckily, the teacher arrived before Pansy spotted me.  
  
"Enter, class." McGonagall said. She really was pretty scary - not someone to mess with - I've heard even the Gryffindors think this, and she is supposed to be head of their house. We all took our seats. I watched Pansy sit near the back of the class, so I took a seat at the front. It's not that I was particularly interested in Transfiguration, but I was particularly interested in keeping my distance from Pansy. She really is the most annoying girl I have ever met. McGonagall now spoke: "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She then turned her desk into a pig, and back - pretty impressive. I have a feeling that this is sort of a standard speech, though. She then gave us about three rolls of parchment worth of notes to take down (in my handwriting, which is quite small). After that she finally started on the practical work. We had to turn a match into a needle. I had hoped for something a little more interesting than that. I really want to learn the Animagus transformation, but that's not likely to happen too soon, now is it?  
  
* * *  
  
After that, I went to Defence Against the Dark Arts, with Professor Quirrell. That was a laugh. I mean, come on - this guy was pathetic. I think he was afraid of his own shadow! He stuttered. He jumped when someone made a sudden movement (which the whole class - consisting entirely of Slytherins - did often, just to see this effect). He wore the most ridiculous looking turban I have ever seen - said he got it for rescuing someone from a zombie - hah! If he saw a zombie, he'd probably faint! And another thing - he stank. I mean really smelled BAD. I think it came from the turban, but I really didn't want to get close enough to the stink to check. This guy was a wuss. I had thought I might pick up something interesting from this class - boy was I wrong. I mean, I had hoped to learn some sort of dark magic from it, but all he did was prattle on about vampires, and trolls. He seemed to have a thing for trolls. Yawn.  
  
* * *  
  
At lunchtime, the same thing happened when Potter entered. Gods, he annoys me - just the fact that he is getting all the attention, and I'm not, is enough to drive me up the wall. He didn't even know he was famous until he got the letter. He lived with Muggles. Why are they making such a fuss over someone who knows as much about our world as a Mudblood? He's still hanging around with that Weasley. What, exactly is it about a Weasley that makes him better than me? Absolutely nothing - that's the answer. So why? Why did he not want to be my friend? He ended up in Gryffindor. That should explain it, right? He's nothing like me. He doesn't want to be my friend, because I'm a Slytherin. He's a Gryffindor, and therefore has absolutely NO Slytherin traits, whatsoever. I hate him.  
  
* * *  
  
History of Magic. One word. BOOOOORIIIIIIIING!!!! I actually wanted to fall asleep before I even got to my seat. The teacher, Professor Binns, was a ghost, and his dull, monotonous, droning voice could put anything to sleep, and I mean ANYTHING. I heard a rumour that Binns had fallen asleep in the staff room, and gotten up to teach, leaving his dead body behind. He could probably bore people to death, if he tried. The most interesting thing about his class - and that's only to people who've never seen a ghost before - was when he entered the room through the back wall.  
  
* * *  
  
I retreated to the common room, after dinner, having eaten very little. The moment Potter entered the room I left. I couldn't stand to be ignored by everyone around me, again. I set my clock's alarm to wake me at eleven, so I could get to Astronomy, in time, and went to sleep. I woke up to the sound of, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"  
  
I hit the clock, and said, "Shut up!" It did. I hadn't changed out of my robes before going to sleep, so I simply straightened them and went up to the Astronomy tower. The view was spectacular. I could see all the grounds from here. The rest of the class arrived, sleepily, over the next half hour. I ignored them, completely. The teacher, Professor Sinistra, arrived at exactly midnight.  
  
"Now, class. You will, I am sure, understand the relevance of Astronomy to other areas of magic, yes?" she asked. Most of the class nodded. Crabbe and Goyle stared blankly. "The positions of constellations and planets affect the powers and properties of certain Charms, and many Potions require ingredients to be picked, or brewed under a certain phase of the moon. In this class, you will learn the significance of the lunar, planetary and stellar movements, and how to plan around them." Several other students had switched off. I was, now, one of only two people actually paying attention. The other was a girl, with shoulder-length fair hair, and blue eyes. She was paying almost reverent attention to every word Professor Sinistra was saying. "We will begin with the simpler task of the lunar cycle." At this point, we were given a lunar chart, and told to fill it in, for homework. We were told that we would not need to stargaze tonight, and sent away, to finish the charts. Short lesson, but since we weren't actually using the telescopes, there really was no reason for us to stay up there.  
  
* * *  
  
When I returned to the common room, I set to work on the chart. I had slept since dinnertime, and didn't need to sleep again that night. The girl who had actually listened to Sinistra's entire speech sat near me, and started working, too.  
  
"Hello." I said.  
  
"Hello. My name's Catarina Feral." she said. The tone of her voice implied that she expected me to tell her my name.  
  
"I'm Draco Malfoy." I said.  
  
"Oh, I've heard of you. Your father is a high level official at the Ministry, right?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah." I answered.  
  
"So, you like Astronomy? You were the only one paying attention," she said.  
  
"You seemed to be paying attention, too." I responded.  
  
"I'm going to take Divination, in third year, and you need good grades in Astronomy to take Divination." she said, enthusiastically.  
  
"I think that all the teachers are worth listening to... with the possible exception of Quirrell." I said.  
  
"Quirrell's a loser," she said. I smirked, at that comment - it was true.  
  
"Hey! Cat! I thought I told you Draco was mine!" Pansy called, across the common room.  
  
"What? I'm not allowed to talk to her?" I asked.  
  
"That's right." Pansy replied.  
  
"You really are a freak, Pansy." I snapped, and left the common room, towards the boys' dormitory.  
  
* * *  
  
Classes were relatively boring - partly because I knew a lot of what they were trying to teach me - until Friday. I was pretty surprised that we only had Potions once a week, but there you go. I was looking forward to Potions class, because it always was my favourite subject. Also, it was a well-known fact that Professor Snape - Head of Slytherin house - always favoured his own students, and he had a vendetta against all Gryffindors. We had Potions with the Gryffindors, and this was going to be fun. Potions class was in the dungeons, not far from the common room. We got there early, and got seats near the front of the class, where we could see properly.  
  
Professor Snape called the roll, first. When he got to Potter's name, he started on a malicious streak that I have to say was extremely entertaining to watch: "Ah, Yes. Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity." You didn't expect me not to laugh, or at least snigger, now did you? After he had finished calling the roll, he started into a pre-planned speech - the sort all the teachers seemed to have, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." his voice was quiet, but menacing, in a way that tells you that if you don't listen to every word, very carefully, you'll regret it, big time. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."  
  
I was very interested in Potions, to begin with, but this speech was inspiring. The bushy-haired girl - Hermione Granger - seemed pretty keen on the subject, too. Snape, however, had other ideas. He decided to pick on Potter. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" I didn't know that one, but it didn't matter - I wasn't the one he asked. I watched with interest. Granger's hand shot into the air - know-it-all - not that being a know-it-all is a bad thing.  
  
"I don't know, sir." Potter answered, sounding scared. Good.  
  
Snape sneered at him - I really do think he would have to be my favourite teacher. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Oh this is good. Potter looked like he had been petrified. Granger waved her hand to try to get Snape's attention, obviously wanting to answer this question, as well. It was all I could do to not burst into fits of laughter, at the look on Potter's face.  
  
"I don't know, sir," he answered. Pathetic - even Crabbe or Goyle could have answered that one.  
  
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" This was entertainment at its best. Serves him right for being so rude to me. Snape asked another question, "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Granger looked like she might have a nervous breakdown if Snape didn't let her answer the question.  
  
"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" Potter said. That was not the right thing to say. Some of the Gryffindors laughed, but Snape scared them into silence by looking at them.  
  
Snape snapped at Granger, "Sit down." then turned his attention back to Potter. If I hadn't already decided I hated him, I would pity him. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" I quickly grabbed my quill, and wrote down what Snape had just said, word for word (as best I could remember it). "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." This really was my favourite subject, now.  
  
We were then put into pairs, and told to mix a simple potion to cure boils. I was stuck with Pansy, who I knew had been hopeless at Basic Potions in our old school. I quickly organised our work so that she didn't touch anything that might blow up. Of course it didn't help, because the crybaby from Gryffindor - Neville Longbottom - melted his cauldron, and succeeded, quite spectacularly, to cover himself in boils. The poor boy was sent off to the Hospital Wing. He must have been worse at Potions than Pansy to make such a simple mistake. And guess what... Snape told off Potter for not noticing that Longbottom was messing up the Potion - Potter wasn't even working with the crybaby! Another point taken away from Gryffindor. By the end of the lesson, I was the only student who Snape hadn't criticised. I wished that we had Potions class more often.  
  
* * *  
  
From then on, I always loved Potions and Astronomy. They were my favourite two subjects. Potions especially, because we got to watch Snape tormenting the Gryffindors. Catarina Feral - Cat - quickly became my friend, and the only way to get Pansy to leave her alone about this fact was for me to admit that I liked Pansy - total lie - and that Cat was just a friend, and nothing more - I'm only eleven! What, exactly does Pansy think I'm going to do? Don't answer that - I really don't want to know.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 3 


	4. Flying Lessons not that I need them

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar, but again, I will remind you, Nott's first name has changed.  
  
Chapter 4 - Flying Lessons (not that I need them)  
  
I am having difficulty deciding who I hate more ... Pansy or Potter ... both have managed to annoy me, to the extreme, in very different ways. Pansy won't let me talk to anything that counts as female, without her supervision - rotten little bitch. And Potter is getting all the attention - no one even notices me, if Potter is in the room ... and that is ignoring the fact that every time he sees me, he insults me - I admit that I insult him, first, but it still annoys me - he always gets the last word - damn him.  
  
* * *  
  
'Flying lessons for first year students will begin  
  
this Thursday (26th September).  
  
Slytherin and Gryffindor students are to be on the  
  
front lawn at 3-30pm, sharp. Anyone who is late  
  
will miss the lesson completely.  
  
Signed,  
  
Madam Hooch; Flying teacher and Quidditch coach.'  
  
"Flying lessons?" Theodore Nott asked, with a sceptical tone, "With the GRYFFINDORS?" Theodore is the only other boy in my dormitory who has any brains. I can actually hold a civilized conversation with him - something there is absolutely no hope of with either Crabbe or Goyle.  
  
"What do we need flying lessons for, anyway? I can understand that the Gryffindor-Mudbloods would never have seen a broomstick before, and I also heard that Longbottom's granny has never let him near one, either - don't blame her ... but I am insulted that they think I don't already know how to fly." I said.  
  
Theodore nodded, "We all heard you going on about how great a flier you are, Draco." he said, "Flint finally got you to shut up by telling you he'd give you a chance for the team ... please don't start with the hell-copper story again."  
  
I glared at him, "I will talk about what I damn well please ... and I think they're called helicopters." I said, "That's not the point, though - what's the betting that Potter makes a complete fool of himself?"  
  
"He's done as much flying as any Mudblood-first-year ... I'd say odds are good." Theodore said.  
  
* * *  
  
That Thursday, I woke up with a splitting headache. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! ..." I am going to have to figure out how to disassemble that alarm clock - I want to make it wake me up without SCREAMING at me.  
  
"Shut the Hell up, before I throw you out the bloody window!" I snapped at the clock - it stopped shouting.  
  
"What's wrong with you, Draco?" Theodore asked.  
  
"My head hurts." I muttered, "I'm going back to sleep." I added, pulling the bed-sheets over my head, in the hopes of making the world disappear.  
  
"You want to miss Transfiguration? You know McGonagall has it in for us." he said.  
  
I made some incoherent noise, that wasn't meant to sound like anything, and remained where I was.  
  
"You know the flying is today?" he asked.  
  
"Yes." I mumbled.  
  
"Do you care?" he inquired.  
  
"Not at the moment." I managed to say - this conversation was not helping my headache.  
  
"Get up, before you lose house-points ... you know you will lose points if you cut class." he said.  
  
I groaned, and sat up, glaring at him - if looks could kill.  
  
* * *  
  
I made it into the common room, before collapsing on the nearest chair, rubbing my temples - my head was hurting even more, now - of course the noise in the room was not helping.  
  
"What's the matter, Drackey, baby?" Pansy asked, sitting down next to me - not what I need - Pansy is the last thing anyone with a headache ever needs.  
  
"Go away, Pansy." I muttered, not even looking at her.  
  
The other first-year girls - Cat, Blaise, and Milli - appeared next to Pansy, "Pans ... we'll be late for breakfast if we don't go now." Milli said.  
  
"What's wrong with Draco?" Cat asked.  
  
"My head hurts ... please take Pansy away, before she makes it worse." I said, still not looking up.  
  
"Michael knows a cure for headaches ... well it's meant for hangovers, but it works on the symptom, rather than the cause." Blaise said.  
  
"Who's Michael?" Milli asked.  
  
"My brother, you dunce - I told you last week." Blaise said.  
  
"I'm not good with names." Milli admitted. With a name like hers (Millicent Bulstrode), I'd be bad on names, too.  
  
"If you can fix it, I'll try anything." I said, finally looking up, but only to glare at Theodore, who had forced me to get up, and face the world - not something I felt like doing at that moment.  
  
Blaise ran off, and returned less than a minute later, with an older boy - probably a third or fourth year, but I wasn't sure. He was saying, "... and if you ever come into our dormitory again, I'll scalp you, lil sis." he then saw the crowd of first years that had assembled around my chair, and said, "So what did you want me for, anyway?"  
  
"Headache cure." Blaise said, simply, pointing at me as she said it.  
  
"Easy." Michael said, and muttered a spell that I didn't quite catch, as he tapped a wand to my head - and all of a sudden, I was able to think properly again.  
  
"Thank you." I said, honestly grateful.  
  
"No problem." Michael said, before running off to breakfast.  
  
* * *  
  
The girls (all four of them) accompanied me up to breakfast, that morning - Pansy was hanging onto me as if she thought all the other girls in the school would pounce on me if she left me alone for a moment. I found Crabbe and Goyle loitering in the Entrance Hall - having already eaten and apparently planning on seconds. They joined up with us, taking on their usual bodyguard positions. I managed to ditch Pansy, and her entourage, as we passed the Gryffindor table, by using the fact that I was going to torment the Gryffindors as an excuse. I found the easiest target, and struck - I snatched something away from Longbottom - it turned out to be a Remembrall. Potter and Weasley jumped up, to defend the boy (who I still think should have been a Hufflepuff). Unfortunately, I was denied the opportunity to turn this situation into a real fight, when McGonagall appeared. (I swear she has a vendetta against Slytherins).  
  
McGonagall picked on me right through our Transfiguration lesson that morning. She took away ten house points from Slytherin, because she said I wasn't paying attention - if she'd asked me what she had been talking about, I could have quoted her word for word, but she didn't give me a chance. Then she told me off for not being able to turn a slip of paper into a stick of wood - no one else in the class could do it either, but I was the one she told off.  
  
* * *  
  
I had been looking forward to that afternoon - an opportunity to, most likely, see Potter make a fool of himself. Unfortunately, I think Madam Hooch and McGonagall are working together - Hooch told me I was gripping the broom wrong, and I don't think she made any negative comments about more than two Gryffindors ... she also made a deliberate note that I hadn't been able to summon my broom from the ground on my first try, and Potter had. Am I paranoid, or has every non-Slytherin in this school got something against me? After everyone (even Longbottom) had got their positions correct, Longbottom proved exactly why his granny hadn't let him near a broomstick - a second before we were ordered to take-off, he shot into the air, and fell flat on his face. Madam Hooch ran over to him, and muttered something about a broken wrist. She then helped the incompetent Squib-wannabie to his feet, and said, "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'." before leading Longbottom back to the school.  
  
Bloody brilliant - now I don't get to see Potter falling off his broom. Still I could find a way to make him look like an idiot - I've always been good at making other people look like idiots (of course I don't need to bother trying, with Crabbe and Goyle - they look idiotic enough as it is). I laughed - well Longbottom's fall WAS funny, "Did you see his face, the great lump?" the other Slytherins started laughing too.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," a Gryffindor girl (I think her name was Patil) snapped.  
  
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy asked, smirking (on me a smirk looks good, but on Pansy it just makes her resemblance to a pug even greater), "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."  
  
At that moment, I spotted something on the ground, where Longbottom had fallen - it was that Remembrall I had seen him with earlier, "Look!" I grabbed the Remembrall before anyone else could see it, "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." I said, holding it up for all to see, glittering in the sunlight.  
  
Potter decided to play the hero - how quaint ... and how predictably Gryffindor of him, "Give that here, Malfoy," he said, in what I'm sure he thought was a dangerously-quiet voice.  
  
I smirked (like I said, a smirk looks good on me), "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," I said, nastily, "how about ... up a tree?"  
  
I jumped onto my broomstick, as he repeated, "Give it here!" this time in a shout. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't listening, and had taken off.  
  
I flew up to hover next to the top of a nearby tree - there weren't many trees around this side of the castle, but this one was un-climbable, and it would do well. "Come and get it, Potter!" I shouted back to him, wholly expecting him to try to fly up after me, and make a complete fool of himself - preferably falling on his face, like Longbottom had done.  
  
Potter picked up the broom he had been about to use earlier, but Granger tried to stop him, "No!" she snapped, "Madam Hooch told us not to move ... you'll get us all into trouble."  
  
He completely ignored her. Much to my horror and anger, he was able to fly as if he'd been doing it all his life. He took off, after me, and hovered a few feet away from me. I was finding this hard to believe - he had never flown before in his life - he was a natural. "Give it here, or I'll knock you off that broom!" he yelled, and I believed he could, too.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, trying not to sound as worried as I felt, about the fact that he was more than capable of carrying out that threat.  
  
And he tried, too - he flew straight at me, and nearly rammed into me, but I dodged just in time. He was quick to turn round, and line himself up for another attack. "No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," he said. That was another valid point - I was getting in over my head, and I didn't like that he could easily win this round.  
  
I decided the easiest way out of this was to turn his attention in another direction. "Catch it if you can, then!" I shouted, throwing the Remembrall as hard as I could, towards the lake. With any luck he might crash-land in the lake and drown himself.  
  
He predictably flew off after the worthless trinket, because it belonged to someone who couldn't stand up for himself, and it was the heroic Gryffindor's duty to rescue the defenceless item.  
  
I landed next to Crabbe and Goyle, who both looked like they had been being too stupid to take in what had just happened - nothing new there then. Pansy was all over me like a shot, saying how wonderful I was, and how clever, and any other words she could think of that she thought I was likely to take as a compliment. The Gryffindors were watching Potter. I turned my attention to him, only when I heard McGonagall's voice calling, "HARRY POTTER!" I saw that she looked livid - what had Hooch said? 'You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'.' - Potter was for it now.  
  
* * *  
  
So, naturally, I had to gloat. Gloating is a hobby, and an art that I have perfected over the years. That dinnertime, I waited for the Weasel-twins to leave Potter alone, before advancing on the Gryffindor table, accompanied by my Professional-Shadow-Impersonators. "Having your last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" I taunted.  
  
He looked up at me, with an air of smugness that rivalled my own - something definitely was not right about that, "You're a lot braver now your back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." What 'little' friends? Those two cannot be classified as 'little' by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
"I'd take you on any time on my own. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact." don't want him punching my face. He's giving me a blank look, at that, "What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"  
  
"Of course he has!" Weasley snapped, turning on me. Was I talking to you, Weasel? No, I wasn't - speak when spoken to. "I'm his second, who's yours?"  
  
Huh? Second? I cannot believe Weasley thinks I'm playing this that far - seconds are only for duels to the death. May as well play along, though. I looked at the two oafs behind me, and picked the slightly less stupid of the two ... not that there's much difference. "Crabbe. Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."  
  
With that spur-of-the-moment act of stupidity, I left them to it. I couldn't believe I had just agreed to a wizard's duel in the middle of the bloody night. And come to think of it, I never did figure out when he was leaving ... he had to have been expelled, right?  
  
* * *  
  
"You are NOT going to go through with this, are you?" Theodore asked, watching as Crabbe and I prepared for the duel, throwing minor hexes across our dorm room.  
  
"Yeah - why not?" I asked, dodging a too-bloody-well-aimed shrinking charm, which ended up shrinking the chair behind me, instead. "Yes, Crabbe - do that to Weasley ... like it'd make much difference." I said, grinning.  
  
"You are twisted, Draco." Theo noted, fighting a smirk off his face, "But seriously - I don' think it's a good idea."  
  
"Give me a reason why not." I said, stopping the little sparring match, and turning to face Theo.  
  
"One: Filch. Two: Peeves. Three: Lose Slytherin house points if caught. Now look at the pros of NOT going. One: Filch catch Potter. Two: Peeves attack Potter. Three: Gryffindor lose house points when they get caught. Convincing enough argument?" Theo asked.  
  
"Good point. Now this. I want to flatten Potter. I want to beat him at this duel, to prove I'm better than him. I will go, in spite of all that, just because I want to beat him." I said, adamantly. There was no changing my mind. Nothing. I was going.  
  
* * *  
  
"Is it clear yet?" Crabbe whispered, from behind me.  
  
"No, you nitwit. I don't get it. Why hasn't Filch come and dealt with them yet?" I whispered, in response. We were hiding in the doorway of a disused dungeon classroom, watching Peeves playing a game that resembled what Muggles call paintball, with the Weasley twins ... the Weasleys appeared to be winning, but there was no way we were going to get caught in the crossfire.  
  
"Are you sure there's no other way out of here?" Crabbe asked impatiently.  
  
"There's a doorway behind the bookcase, in the back of the classroom, but it only leads back to the common room, and we'd still have this lot to get past." I muttered.  
  
"So? Let's just give up and go back. I'm tired." Crabbe said, emphasising it with a yawn.  
  
"Fine, fine. Whatever. I'll still have that duel ... just not tonight." I said, turning away from the view of the carnage, and showing Crabbe how to use bookcase-doors.  
  
I do remember one of the Weasleys yelling, "He's getting away!" we probably could have gotten past them, then, but I'll never really know, will I?  
  
* * *  
  
"Lousy bloody karma!" I yelled, kicking my trunk, and collapsing onto my bed. "I can't believe they didn't expel him."  
  
"What's worse, though - they actually rewarded him for breaking the rules." Theo said, quietly.  
  
"Yeah - he gets to play for their Quidditch team without even a try-out. Flint let me go to the try-outs, and deliberately knocked me off with the f***ing Bludger before I had a chance." I snarled.  
  
"I really don't want to picture Bludgers f***ing, thank you very much." Theo said, trying not to smirk at said mental picture.  
  
"Flint did it on purpose, you know." I said, "And the smug Gryffindor git was given a free pass to play, without try-outs at all."  
  
"So you've already said. A dozen times." Theo sighed, before quite deliberately throwing a textbook at me, "Snap out of it, and get back at him."  
  
"Who? Flint or Potter?"  
  
"Both?" Theo suggested, shrugging.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 4 


	5. Quirrell's Odd Behaviour

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's. The prank Draco pulled on Flint was inspired by Red Dwarf.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar, but again, Nott's name got changed ... I'm gonna stop mentioning Nott's name, after a while.  
  
A lot of plot happens very fast, in this chapter. It's amazing how much information I fitted into such a short space. I had expected this time frame to cover two or three chapter.  
  
Chapter 5 - Quirrell's Odd Behaviour  
  
Flint first. Potter can wait.  
  
I'd been watching their Quidditch practices with avid attention, since they started. Their tactics were impressive, and I think I could find most of them in the book Father bought me (A Guide to Quidditch Strategies, and How to Get Away with Cheating). Flint seemed to be a bit of a tyrant. Basically: if you failed you got yelled at, and if you succeeded you got yelled at less so. But the brooms they were flying were second rate, at best. Cleansweep 6 (three of them), Cleansweep 7, Comet 220, Nimbus 1900 (two of them). Potter just got a Nimbus 2000 - our Seeker's broom is barely half as fast. Flint didn't seem to care that I was watching them. I'm in their house, so what am I gonna do? I'll tell you what I'm gonna do - I'm gonna show up that second-year prat who calls himself a Seeker. This practice has been going on for five hours, and still nothing.  
  
"Oi! Higgs! It's over there!" I yelled, pointing at the sparkle of gold across the pitch from me. The second year glared at me, long enough for the Snitch to move away. "Now it's gone. If you'd focus, rather than being so insecure ... you think I'm going for your job, don't you?" I asked grinning.  
  
"As if!" Higgs yelled down at me.  
  
"Next year! Just you wait!" I yelled back.  
  
Game getting boring, now. I looked up at Flint, seeing him enjoy himself far too much, trying to knock the Keeper off his broom. He'll be busy for a while. Time for that revenge.  
  
I know it's childish. I know it's immature. But what you need to remember is that I was only eleven, and my imagination for revenges didn't stretch to anything particularly un-childish, yet. I sneaked into the Slytherin team changing rooms, and found Flint's locker. "Alohomora." I whispered, and the locker creaked open ... I won't tell you what I did, yet, because it'd ruin the surprise. Five minutes later, I strolled out of the changing rooms, leaving no noticeable trace that I'd been there.  
  
* * *  
  
That evening, at dinner, I sat back in my chair, exuding an air of smugness.  
  
"What are you up to, Draco?" Milli asked, from across the table, where three of the girls were sitting, and had been chittering.  
  
"Wait and see." I said, with a shark's grin.  
  
"What is it?" Blaise asked - now the girls seemed completely intrigued.  
  
"Not telling." I said, grinning even more broadly.  
  
Pansy, who had been sitting next to me, opposite the other three girls, gave me her best puppy-dog eyes (considering she looks a bit like a pug, it's not to difficult for her to do the puppy-dog eyes), and asked, in her sweetest little-girl-lost voice (which sounds so insincere), "Please tell us, Draco, please."  
  
"Nu uh." I said, shaking my head, and refusing to give in.  
  
I looked up as the doors opened and the Quidditch team (now changed back into their normal everyday robes) entered the Great Hall, trying to look like they owned the place. Good timing, now let's see. I set it for 5-30, and it was now - I checked my watch - 5-28. "Just in time." I whispered.  
  
"What's just in time?" Cat asked.  
  
"The Quidditch team. I'd hoped they'd make it." I said, not giving anything away. I checked my watch again - 5-29. "Any second now." I said gleefully, as I watched the second hand tick round, "Just watch the Quidditch team." I said to the girls, who immediately did so. I began the countdown, "Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... now." I said looking up. Sod-all happened. Flint shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then, slowly, a look of fearful confusion appeared on his face, and a grin on mine. Then he started to convulse in pain. He doubled up and fell to the floor in agony.  
  
"What did you do to the poor boy?" Blaise asked, stunned.  
  
"Shrinking charm on a timer ... Crabbe gave me the idea." I said, grinning.  
  
"What, exactly, is shrinking?" Cat asked in morbid fascination.  
  
"His underpants." I said, grinning viciously.  
  
"That's bad, Draco. Very bad." Milli scolded, while grinning, all the same.  
  
"What did he do to you, to deserve that?" Cat asked.  
  
"He didn't give me a chance to try out for the Slytherin team. I can spot a Snitch way better than Higgs can." I said, watching the twitching sixth year.  
  
"Won't it do permanent damage?" Theo asked, sitting down next to me, and obviously having overheard what we were saying.  
  
"Shouldn't do." I said, "That is if someone gets him to the hospital wing one of these days." I added, getting a bit nervous - I didn't want to be responsible for causing him permanent harm, even if I didn't get caught ... I only wanted to hurt and humiliate him, not kill off his family line. I stood up and yelled at the Quidditch team, "Are you all stupid, or something? He needs medical attention, doesn't he?"  
  
They gave me blank looks.  
  
"He is on the floor, twitching like he's under an Unforgivable bloody curse! Do something!" Theo snapped.  
  
That got them. The Chasers and Beaters picked their captain up, and carried him out, still twitching.  
  
* * *  
  
Madam Pomfrey said Flint would make a full recovery, and she'd love to get her hands on the idiot that did that to him, so she could give them a piece of her mind, muttering things like, "Dangerous pranks and thoughtless students, inconsiderate backstabbers and unsafe spells." All in all, I think she just complimented me.  
  
Flint was still in the hospital wing, that Thursday, and missed one Hell of a Hallowe'en Feast. The highlight of the evening being when Quivering Quirrell burst into the Great Hall, proclaimed that there was a troll in the dungeon, and fainted.  
  
In retrospect, sitting in our dorm after the event, I wondered why Quirrell had acted like that. He has a thing for trolls - loves them (I'm not sure what context I mean that in, to be honest). Why did he run and faint, at one measly troll in the dungeons, when he SAYS he's been able to handle whole troop of trolls? Not normal, at all.  
  
"What'ya thinking about?" Theo asked, seeing my frown, and lack of attention to my homework.  
  
"Quirrell and the troll. He should have been able to handle that troll himself." I said, still frowning.  
  
"So? He wimped out. He's a wuss, Draco - we all know, he's afraid of his own bloody turban." Theo said, sitting across from me, with a vindictive grin. "Bet we could make him have a nervous breakdown, next lesson."  
  
I looked up. That sounded like a fun thing to do, "Yes? I'm listening."  
  
"Well, if we timed it right." Theo said, looking around conspiratorially, before taking out a packet of Fireworks, "We set these, on a timing spell, and ..." so it continued. It was really a good idea, but I wasn't paying much attention.  
  
Theo managed to pull the little stunt off on his own. He told Quirrell that the fireworks must have been left there by the previous class ... said class being Gryffindor third years, the story was believable, and the blame was planted firmly on the Weasley twins.  
  
* * *  
  
Flint had recovered in time for the first Quidditch match of the season. He seemed in a particularly foul mood, but he was in perfect health. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the audience were all backing the Gryffindor team. We were outnumbered by 3-1 ... at least the teams had even numbers. Just as the game was about to start, Cat and Blaise landed in the two free seats to my left.  
  
"What'd we miss?" Cat asked, panting from having just run to get here in time.  
  
"Just the rest of the school booing our team." I said, a bit bitterly.  
  
"Oh, we heard that part." Blaise said, producing a green and silver flag and a pair of omnioculars from her pocket.  
  
"Well they're about to take off, any minute. What took you two so long?" I asked.  
  
"We were ... busy." Cat said evasively.  
  
"Busy with what?" I asked, getting suspicious. A word to the wise - Slytherins are always up to something.  
  
"Nothing you'd be interested in. Look - there they go." Blaise said, before being drowned out by cheers and chants from all around us. And the game began. It would have been impossible to continue a conversation now, even if I had wanted to.  
  
I watched the action, with the attention any fan would, although I paid specific attention to the Seekers. Both of them. I wanted to size up my competition, both for the position on the team next year, and for the Quidditch Cup, when I play them, next year. And I will play next year. A Malfoy always gets what he wants ... or else someone gets hurt (example - Flint). Higgs' strategy seemed not to have wavered a bit - still circling a bit too low and not wide enough. Potter, on the other hand, had excellent tactics and was likely to spot the Snitch first. That wasn't too good, but at least it would put me in a good position for next year.  
  
Then something odd happened. Potter's broom started bucking. That is not something a Nimbus-brand broom does, let alone a Nimbus 2000. I looked around, but no one else had noticed yet. I turned to the commentator's booth, but the third-year Gryffindor commentator was busy moaning about our latest score, and didn't see anything abnormal. I glanced up to where Potter had been ... higher ... he was at least 70 feet in the air, now ... the drop would kill him. I don't know why I cared, but I didn't want him dead ... painfully mutilated by my own hands, yes ... but not dead. I looked around again, hoping someone had noticed what was happening, and vaguely wondering why I hadn't tried to tamper with his broom, myself.  
  
The teachers box presented an interesting dilemma. Two of them were watching Potter, but they were both just staring at him. "Gimme those." I snapped, snatching Blaise's omnioculars and putting them to my own eyes. Quirrell and Snape were both watching Potter, who was still going up - must be 100 feet, now. The odd thing was that Quirrell was chanting, maintaining a concentration and eye contact … and obviously not stuttering. Who was that, and what had he done with our DADA teacher? And Snape was doing much the same. One of them was hexing Potter's broom, and I actually cared to find out which one ... mostly because Quirrell was already under my suspicion, but partly for morbid curiosity.  
  
A loud collective gasp from the crowd drew my attention back to Potter. He was literally holding on by one hand. Flint was busy scoring goals, while no one was watching ... I have to admit, he's a good player and that was a smart move, but he's still a git and I hate him. A few Slytherins around me had taken up the chant of "Drop! Drop! Drop!" but I was now more interested in the small speck of gold near the ground. Oh Higgs, you bloody distractible idiot - look down and win the game for us you twit! Flint ought to be really regretting not letting me play, now ... except for the obvious fact that he doesn't know I'm better than Higgs because he didn't give me a chance to prove myself.  
  
Another spark of light caught my attention, now ... Snape's robes had caught fire, and he had managed to knock Quirrell over in the process of putting them out ... by the looks of it, he seemed to knock Quirrell over on purpose. My bet would be on Quirrell being up to something that involves a significant lack of Harry Potter. Speak of the devil - Potter was back on his broom, and diving for the Snitch ... which, miraculously, was still where it had been when I had last seen it.  
  
Higgs hadn't a hope of catching up, but Potter didn't catch it - he nearly swallowed it ... as Flint so accurately worded it, after the match.  
  
* * *  
  
I spent the next few weeks watching Quirrell very carefully. He seemed normal, during classes, but if I loitered around, and made sure I was the last student to leave the room, and could hear him talking to himself ... talking to yourself is tantamount to hearing voices ... something's up with him. Maybe he's working with someone else. Question is: what's he up to?  
  
Christmas was boredom incarnate. I won't go into details, but all Father's 'old friends' ... that means Them ... were there, and they all got drunk and started duelling. I made myself scarce at this point, and don't know what happened after that. I was actually pretty thankful to get back to Hogwarts, and away from Father's idea of 'Christmas Spirit'. I am so staying at school, next year.  
  
The only good thing about Christmas was the presents, which included: new dress robes, all sorts of cutesy little nick-nacks that Mother thinks are adorable, some cool Dark Arts books, and a Spy Ball. Spy Balls are cool things, but bloody expensive and hard to come by. If you cast a simple charm on some thing/one/where, you can view it/them remotely, through what looks like a normal Divination-style crystal ball. I'm going to use it on Quirrell.  
  
* * *  
  
I was in the seemingly deserted Library, on the first weekend of term, working on my Charms homework, when I heard a voice muttering, to herself, "Can't believe it's not here. Must be somewhere. Maybe in this one." and then Hermione Granger emerged from behind a stack of shelves, holding a book titled 'Great Witches and Wizards of Our Time'.  
  
"Hey, Granger! What are you up to?" I asked, abandoning my homework in favour of being nosey.  
  
"None of your business, Malfoy." she snapped, spitting my name like a swearword.  
  
"I'm not trying to be nasty to you." I said, calmly, holding up my hands in a gesture that asks for truce, "I was just curious. That book's not on the curriculum is all."  
  
"Well it's none of your business, is it?" she asked, but it really wasn't meant to be a question.  
  
"Look, Granger, I know you're not usually the sort of person I'd want to socialise with, but the Daft Duo don't believe in Libraries, so I don't have to pretend that I don't like your attitude." I said, smirking, "I really only wondered if I could help you, since you're ... new to the magical world, maybe I'd know where to look for whatever you're trying to find?"  
  
She gave me an odd look, "What do you mean, I'm not the sort of person you'd usually want to socialise with?" she asked cagily.  
  
"You're a Gryffindor and you're parents are Muggles. I wouldn't normally even give you the time of day, so think yourself lucky that I have taken a notion to be nice to you."  
  
"I still don't need your help. It's not something I want to let all of Slytherin house in on," she said, with a sharp tone to her voice that I knew was intended to sound vicious.  
  
"Ouch. Intelligent, good-looking, and now with the witty-come-backs as well. Now I really am starting to like you." I said, "And anyway, you wouldn't believe the number of secrets that we keep from each other, in Slytherin house ... there's a lot of secrets, lies and espionage going on within the snakes' common room."  
  
"Hmmm ... well, I don't suppose you've ever heard of anyone called Nicolas Flamel, have you?" she asked.  
  
"That's what you're looking for?" I asked, grinning.  
  
She nodded, watching me like I might grow fangs at try to drink her blood if she didn't keep a close eye on me.  
  
"That's easy, then ... he's pretty famous, actually. But I'm not going to just give information away for nothing. Tell me why you want to know."  
  
Hermione looked around nervously, before seeming to decide that it might be worth telling me, to find out what she wanted to know, "It's something to do with what's in the Forbidden Corridor, on the third floor."  
  
"You think?" I asked, surprised. Nicolas Flamel was an alchemist - what would he have to do with -? Wait a second - he IS the only one known to own a Philosopher's Stone, and there must be something in that corridor that Dumbledore doesn't want anyone to get at. Oh, now there's a useful bit of information ... if I'm right, that is. I put on my do-not-disturb-while-thinking expression, and wandered into the stacks of books, browsing the titles there, until I found what I was looking for. I took out a copy of a book titled 'Magical Discoveries Through The Centuries' it was a big book, but it wasn't as heavy as it looked. "You want to be looking up books about wizards in the thirteen-hundreds, not modern ones. He'd be about six hundred years old, now." I said idly, while flicking through the book I had taken down. I found the right page, and confirmed that I was right - the Philosopher's Stone was mentioned in this book. I like to be helpful, but I prefer the insidious approach. She'll not even know I helped her ... or if she does, she'll never know it was intentional.  
  
"That doesn't make sense ... from what I heard, he's still alive." Hermione said, frowning in confusion.  
  
I looked up at her, not giving anything away in my expression, "I never heard about him dying, either ... maybe he is still alive." I said, trying not to give too much away. I like being cryptic, too.  
  
"You're not helping." she said angrily.  
  
"Yes I am, you're just not reading between the lines ... although I don't know why you want to know about the Corridor ... I wouldn't think you're the sort to be suicidal ... what were Dumbledore's exact words? 'Out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death'? That tends to imply there's something painful and deadly in there ... and it's no business of yours or mine what's in there, at the best of times." I was watching her carefully, and she reacted oddly to my comment about something painful and deadly. I paused, considering this, "You know what's in there, don't you?"  
  
She shook her head guiltily. She knew. Gryffindors are so easy to read. They're like an open book. "So, can you help me, or not?"  
  
"I can't tell you anything about Flamel." I said, shrugging. "On another topic - you're known as a bit of a book-worm, aren't you ... before you were Sorted, I had you pegged as a Ravenclaw."  
  
"I do like to read, yes." she said, on-edge again. She doesn't trust me, does she? I don't blame her.  
  
"You've read 'Hogwarts, A History', I've heard. You must be the only other first year - nay, student - in this school, who has."  
  
"What do you mean 'only OTHER'?" she asked, giving me a questioning look.  
  
"I've read it." I said, smiling at her reaction, "Although, when I bought it, Mother told me not to waste my money. I think you might like this book." I said, holding up the tomb I had taken down, moments ago, "I've read it before, and I think you might find it interesting."  
  
She took the book cautiously, examining the cover, "It looks interesting. What's the catch?"  
  
"No catch. Just, I wanted to help you out." I said, smiling. "You need to learn about our world. I am willing to be your friend, provided no one finds out I've even given you so much as a kind word."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, watching me what that rabbit-looking-at-fox stare that obviates total distrust.  
  
"I am a Malfoy ... my family are one of the oldest known, in the magical world, and we're proud of that fact. Do you know what my family, their friends, and until recently myself too, call someone like you - someone with Muggle parents?" she shook her head nervously, but her eyes never left me, "Mudblood." I said coldly, spitting the word like she had spat my name, earlier, "It means dirty blood. You're viewed as an inferior species, by a lot of Pureblood families."  
  
"What about you? You said 'until recently' you thought the same. What's changed?" she asked, taking a step back and glancing in the direction of the door to check she had a clear escape route.  
  
"I met you." I said, watching her carefully, "You're the first Muggle-born I've ever met, and I had honestly believed what I'd been told about them, before. When I first saw you, I thought you were a Pureblood, because the way I'd been told it, Muggle-borns were so bad that I had thought I'd be able to recognise the difference by sight ... you made a very good first impression on me, and your behaviour in our first Potions class only made me like you more. But I'd never heard of a family by the name Granger, and after a few days I figured out your parents had to be Muggles. That's when I decided that you Muggle-borns couldn't be that bad, if someone as good at magic as you are was one. Now, I still have a reputation to maintain, so if you tell anyone that I'm being nice to you, I'll have to kill them, and Obliviate you."  
  
"You want to be my friend because I made a good first impression on you? I asked you about a toad." she said, sounding stunned.  
  
"Yes, you did. But it's the air of superiority you managed to project, while asking about such a stupid thing - I'd have thought it was impossible for a Muggle-born to hold herself so regally." I said, letting down my guard, just a little, so that she could see I was being sincere, "And besides," I added, resorting to my usual smirk, "I could use an ally in the enemy camp."  
  
"Now, I don't know whether that was serious, or not." she said honestly.  
  
"Our Slytherin humour is not like your Gryffindor humour." I said, still with the smirk, "We never make a joke that isn't based in a half-truth - that's what makes it so vicious. It would be useful if I had a friend in the enemy camp, but I wasn't really being serious."  
  
"I think I'll err on the side of caution," she said, smiling weakly, "But I wouldn't mind getting to know what you're like behind the mask. I think you let it down for a second there, and I think you seemed almost likable, that way."  
  
"The mask is for my own protection. I'll only take it off if I decide I can trust you. That will take a while." I said, before turning and sauntering over to the desk, gathered my books, and started towards the door, "Don't forget to check that book out, before you take it." I called over my shoulder.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 5 


	6. Why Can't You Just Stay Dead?

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar, but again, Nott's name got changed ... this is the last time I mention the fact that the boy previously known as Lucas Nott is now called Theodore Nott.  
  
Chapter 6 - Why Can't You Just Stay Dead?  
  
I was thinking over my conversation with Granger, the next day, in DADA class. So, there IS something painful and deadly in the Forbidden corridor. There is something to do with Nicolas Flamel hidden there, too - probably the Philosopher's Stone. If you follow basic logic, the something-painful-and-deadly is probably guarding the Philosopher's Stone, or whatever-it-is. Interesting.  
  
"N-now, if you w-would all t-turn to p-page one-h-hundred and f-fifty-th-three, you w-will see w-why it is a b-bad idea t-to stick s-someth-thing up a t-troll's n-nose." Quirrell said. There was a rustling of paper, as students turned pages. Nice illustration - and the caption said 'A troll's nose is not a good place to stick things, because all it will do is annoy the troll, and that will result in a rampage that you do not want to be near'. Cute. But I really wasn't thinking of that. Trolls. Quirrell. Forbidden Corridor. Connection, maybe? I am a firm believer in the non-existence of co-incidences. I've known Quirrell was up to something for a while now, but surely he wasn't brave enough to try something like that.  
  
As the offending teacher walked past my desk, I started coughing, "Why don't you wash that turban, once a decade, or so?" Cat asked impudently, from the table across from me.  
  
Quirrell turned on her, with a vicious glare that I hadn't thought he was capable of. Cat cringed. But as quickly as he had changed, he had turned back to his stuttering self, "Now, n-now, Miss Feral. It's n-not v-very nice to ins-sult a teacher. Five p-points from S-Slytherin." he stuttered fearfully.  
  
As he walked on, I looked at Cat. She made eye contact and gave me a did-you-see-that-or-am-I-going-nuts look. I returned the expression, before turning my attention back to Quirrell. I pointed my wand at him, and whispered, "Vi-deo." it's the spell to link someone to the Spy Ball (which I carry around with me, in case I feel like casting the link on anyone - you need to be holding the Spy Ball, to cast the link). My lip twitched, but I forced down the smirk, as I returned to our work on how to survive a troll-attack (apparently, he thinks that Slytherin first-years aren't up to the same standard as Gryffindor first-years - yes, I heard about the troll-in-the-girls-bathroom incident, too).  
  
* * *  
  
That very evening, Cat cornered me. "I'm not going crazy. Quirrell turned scary for a moment, tell me I'm not imagining it," she said desperately.  
  
"I saw it." I said, carefully detaching her clawing fingers from my shirt, "I don't think anyone else did, but I've had some suspicions about him for a while, now."  
  
"So. What was the curse you cast on him? I didn't hear it," she asked, with a hopeful tone that told me she wanted me to have done something nasty and painful to him.  
  
"It wasn't a curse. It was a spying spell." I said, smirking, "I want to know what's up with him. How about a deal, Cat? I let you see whatever I find out about Quirrell, and you tell me what you and Blaise have been up to, since the Snakes-and-Lions Quidditch match."  
  
Cat thought about that, "I really ought to ask Blaise about that ... but what the hell. Deal. We've been working on finding out what's in the Forbidden Corridor. So far, we know that there's some sort of treasure, and an awful lot of traps to keep people out. I went up to the door of the corridor, and I'll swear I heard something growling in there."  
  
"Nice. Well, I doubt anyone's stupid enough to go in there." I said, not entirely believing what I was saying. Gryffindors are known for acting first and thinking later - what does Hermione want to do with it, if she didn't even know what it was down there? Come to think of it, if I could confirm it was a Philosopher's Stone, I'd probably try to get to it - who wouldn't want one of those? Infinite money and eternal life ... so what if I've already got one of those, I could always do with the other.  
  
"So, let's see what Quirrell's really up to." Cat said, grinning.  
  
"Right. Follow me." I said, leading her into the boys' dorm. "Theo, I'd like you to leave, now. And if you see the Stupid Squad, tell them I'm busy."  
  
"Pansy'll kill you, you know?" Theo said, grinning.  
  
I glared at him, "This has nothing to do with romance ... you can start accusing me of that after puberty." I snarled.  
  
Cat giggled, but didn't add to my statement.  
  
When Theo was gone, I took out the glass globe, set it on the desk, and tapped it with my wand. It turned from clear glass to misty white, "Samel Quirrell." I stated clearly, to the Spy Ball. Almost immediately, an image appeared. Cat leaned over my shoulder, to see it.  
  
I could see Professor Quirrell, in a small room, with a mirror. He was starting to take off the turban, and muttering, "It doesn't smell that bad, My Lord. Really. She's just a bit of a troublemaker. Trying to go for what looked to her like an easy target. If only she knew." Not a single stutter. Cat seemed to notice that, too.  
  
"She will pay for her insolence." another, bone-chilling voice said. I examined the entire image, but saw no one else.  
  
"She did not know who she was talking about, My Lord. I doubt she would have insulted you, had she known." Quirrell said fearfully, but still not stuttering.  
  
"Stop." the cold and as-of-yet-unidentified voice said, just before Quirrell took the last layer of the turban from his head. "Someone is watching us."  
  
Quirrell looked around, moving through the entire room, checking the doors and window. "My Lord, there is no one here." he said nervously.  
  
"We are being watched," the cold voice said. "Let me see." and Quirrell immediately dropped the turban, to reveal a horrific sight. Cat shrieked when she saw it. I was just thankful I hadn't eaten anything recently, or I'd have been sick. There was a second face on the back of Quirrell's head ... a deformed, inhuman, almost serpentine face, with red eyes. I had never seen it before, but I knew what it was. There was nothing else it could be, really. But He was dead, ten and a half years, now. The boy-who-eats-Snitches was supposed to have killed Him. Still ... the stories I've heard ... that's exactly what his face was supposed to look like. It couldn't be him ... surely.  
  
"It's not Him." I whispered, more to myself than to Cat, "It can't be Him."  
  
Cat didn't speak, just stared at the horrific sight, as Quirrell turned around to allow the demonic face to see the room. "Just because we cannot see our voyeur, does not mean there is no one watching," the face, which was the source of that icy voice, said. Then, in a sing-song voice that made 'creepy' seem cute and cuddly, "Come out, come out, wherever you are. No way out. Room's locked. Nowhere to run. Can't hide for long." I shivered. I felt almost like he might actually find me, even though I'm not in the room.  
  
"My Lord. I cannot find anyone." Quirrell said fearfully.  
  
"Someone is watching us." the demonic face hissed, "But you are right - they are not here. Whoever you are, wherever you are, know this, spy - no one crosses Lord Voldemort and lives. If I ever find who you are, you will regret the day you were born."  
  
I tapped the Spy Ball with my wand, and it turned clear again. "Bloody Hell!" I said loudly.  
  
"You said it." Cat squeaked.  
  
Suddenly, the door opened, and Theo's face appeared, "What are you two doing? I heard her scream, now you're yelling swear-words ... what's up?"  
  
I looked up at Theo, and sighed … but it was Cat who spoke, "We've seen the devil's face, and it's not a pretty picture."  
  
"What the Hell?" Theo asked. I pointed to the what-looked-like-a-crystal-ball. Theo stared at it for a second, "You've been trying Divination? But that's third year stuff."  
  
Cat smirked, "And I predict terrible things will happen ... unless someone does something about it."  
  
I nodded dumbly, before asking, "Theo - what is your opinion, from what you've heard, of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"  
  
"Evil git. Good riddance." Theo said simply.  
  
"Right answer." I said, shaking slightly. "Problem. He's not really gone."  
  
Cat nodded and took up the line, "We saw him ... he's here, in the school. And I am skiving off DADA class, from now on."  
  
I frowned, "But he'd get suspicious. You heard what he said - if he finds out who was watching him ... I don't even want to think what might happen."  
  
Theo sat down, on the chair by the door, "You're saying evil-snake-face, who tried to take over the world, and used my parents as pawns for his cause, is back?"  
  
"Yes. And you're not the only one whose parents joined him. My father was one of Them, too ... he told me that he only joined because You-Know-Who threatened to kill my mother if he refused." I said, staring at the floor.  
  
"My dad's in Azkaban, for joining You-Know-Who, and killing a load of Muggles." Cat said, looking from Theo to me, and back again.  
  
I looked up from the stone floor, to see the two of them - they both knew how bad this was. I was amazed that they would take my side - I thought they'd probably side with You-Know-Who ... I know for a fact that Crabbe and Goyle would. "One minor detail. What are we supposed to do about it?"  
  
"Tell someone who can do something." Theo said.  
  
"Who'd believe us? 'Oh, Professor Dumbledore, did you know your trusted DADA teacher is sharing his body with the greatest Dark Wizard of our time, who was supposed to have died ten and a half years ago?' I can just see that." I said, sarcastically.  
  
"Good point." Theo said.  
  
"One thing, you should know, though. Crabbe and Goyle are pretty much big into the idea that You-Know-Who was really a great leader who was cut down in his prime, and should be restored ... so I wouldn't tell them you hate the thought of Lord Evil-Git." I said, doing my best to think up new insulting names for Him - it'd be almost as much fun as thinking up insults for Potter and Weasley.  
  
"Right. So noted." Theo said in an efficient tone, "So what now?" he asked.  
  
"We keep an annoyingly close eye on Quirrell, and maybe I'll help Potter with his little crusade." I said, smirking.  
  
"You? Help Potter? How? And more importantly ... huh?" Cat said.  
  
"I wouldn't go to him directly, but I know his little clique is interested in the third-floor corridor ... you know, the one that's got something being kept safe in it?" I said, looking at Cat, who nodded. "I think there's a chance Quirrell might be trying to steal it ... makes sense, in my informed opinion. So -"  
  
"Informed?" Cat and Theo both asked. "What do you know?" Theo added.  
  
"I'm pretty sure I know what's being guarded, there." I said, straight-faced, while they gawked at me, "I know at least two damned good reasons why the Snake-Who-Won't-Die would want it ... one stands out particularly sharply." I added, thinking of the properties of the Philosopher's Stone ... wouldn't it be beneficial to Lord Loser, to get his undead mits on some Elixir of Life? And it just so happens that the Stone can make the Elixir of Life, which would bring Lord Sadistic-Snake back to life ... to eternal life. That'd be a bad ... a BIG bad.  
  
"So?" Cat asked, "What is it?"  
  
"Something that could restore Him. We can only hope he meets the 'very painful death' Dumbledore mentioned, at the start of term, before he get to the 'treasure'." I said, "There really isn't much we can do."  
  
"Yeah." Theo said sadly, "It's not like we're Gryffindors ... I'd bet if they knew what was going one, the whole house would storm the DADA classroom, and chop Quirrell to pieces."  
  
"Maybe we should tell the Gryffindors?" Cat suggested.  
  
"And they would believe us when Hades takes a snow-plow to work." I said icily.  
  
* * *  
  
The next few weeks passed far too slowly. Cat, Theo, and I all kept watch on Quirrell, but in order to remain inconspicuous, we couldn't keep up a constant 24-7 surveillance. Quidditch matches provided some light relief, and fistfights with Weasley can really take your mind off the troubles of the impending Apocalypse. Problems arose, however, when Theo came up with the bright idea of hitting Quirrell with a mild flu-curse. It didn't work ... O.K., Quirrell looked a bit pale, but it wasn't noticeable ... and Theo ended up with a detention.  
  
He came back in the middle of the night, muttering death threats on Filch, and something about never wanting to see the Trophy Room again, for as long as he lived.  
  
"Had a good night, then, Theo?" I asked, in a cheerful voice.  
  
"Drop dead." he replied.  
  
"Not in the mood." I responded, "Seriously ... what did they make you do for detention?"  
  
"Polish ... Trophies ... I stink." he noted - well the smell of polish was a bit strong, "Quirrell gave me that detention. Now I have another reason to want him dead."  
  
"Calm down. Think rationally. Plan your retaliation carefully, Theo. Rule 43: 'Tantrums are good. A systematic and brutal revenge is better'." I said, watching as he slowly reigned in his anger.  
  
"You're right. Let's bribe the Beaters to do him in, next match." Theo said, sounding much calmer, yet still with the homicidal tone creeping into his words.  
  
"May as well try it. Any plan is better than sitting around and doing nothing, especially one that involves bribing someone else to do the dirty work." I said, grinning. "Now get to sleep ... DADA in the morning. I want to stay awake in that class ... gods only know what he'd do to us, in our sleep."  
  
* * *  
  
Blaise somehow managed to get in on our loop. Cat talked to her, and swears she's trustworthy. "I've known her all my life. She was my next-door neighbour. She's like a sister to me."  
  
"I have a sister." Theo said, eyeing Blaise with suspicion, "She'd sell me out for next-to-nothing."  
  
"Blaise." I said, looking her in the eyes, "Tell me. What is your opinion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"  
  
Blaise quailed at the thought of Him, but recovered her composure quickly, and answered, "He's bloody terrifying. I'm glad he's gone - I'd be afraid to sleep at night if he came back." she held my gaze the whole time she was speaking, and didn't blink once. If she was lying, she was better at it than my father.  
  
"That's a good enough answer." I said, "Satisfied, Theo?" I asked. Theo scowled but nodded.  
  
Cat smiled, "Good. Now we can actually tell her?"  
  
"Yes." I said, making it sound like a sigh, "Blaise, you're not going to like this. But You-Know-Who isn't dead. He's not exactly alive, either. From what we can tell, he's only surviving in symbiosis with a willing servant." Blaise looked like she'd just seen a Gorgon. She stared at me in abject horror.  
  
Cat picked up where I left off, a little too smoothly for my liking, "Said willing servant just happens to be Professor Samel Quirrell. The turban smells for a reason, and you don't want to know what's under it," she shuddered, at the memory of what we'd seen in the Spy Ball.  
  
"Plus - that stuttering." Theo put in, "It's all an act, to throw people off the scent. Whoever would suspect p-poor st-st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?" he asked, in a fair impersonation of Quirrell's stutter.  
  
"You're kidding." Blaise finally managed to say, "This is some elaborate joke, right?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"No joke." Cat said, shaking her head.  
  
"Wish it was." Theo added.  
  
"It's true. Big, Bad, and Butt-Ugly is back." I added. Well, at least I was still able to add some humour to the situation.  
  
"Well. I heard someone saying they saw Quirrell heading out into the grounds, a few times ... for the Forest." Blaise said. "Maybe he's up to something in there?"  
  
"That might prove useful. But I'm not going out there." Theo said firmly.  
  
"Me neither." I added promptly.  
  
"Nor me." Blaise and Cat said synchronously.  
  
We all looked at each other for a moment, "We could check out the grounds, in general." Cat suggested, "Don't need to go in there. Might find something outside the Forest."  
  
The united gasp of relief was audible.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 6 


	7. I Said Stay Dead Die! Die!

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 7 - I Said Stay Dead - Die! Die!  
  
So we not only watched Quirrell, but for the next few weeks we spent a large chunk of our free time out in the grounds, in groups of two (Blaise and Cat, or Theo and me - I didn't want Pansy thinking I was doing anything that an eleven year old is too young to do anyway). And just to add to the fun, exams decided to start looming as well, so we had revision to be doing. Never really found anything searching the grounds, and we quickly gave up on the lead as worthless.  
  
Pansy was getting all the more clingy since I'd been, as she put it, "Sneaking off with those three to get up to no good." She decided to stay with me at all times. Fun. I try to avoid her, at the best of times, but now she was becoming as much like a shadow as the Two Twits.  
  
I shook her off, saying I wanted to study. "It's this wonderful new invention called a Library, Pans. You'll not know what that means, but I'm going there, and I'd appreciate a lack of company." I glanced over her shoulder, at Crabbe and Goyle, but they were in blissful ignorance of everything around them.  
  
"Fine." she snapped, and stomped off.  
  
"Wow." I said to myself, stunned, "That was easier that I'd expected."  
  
The Library was a little more crowded than usual (there were about five or six people there, when I got there ... for the Hogwarts Library on a Saturday, that's crowded). I took a seat in a corner, well away from prying eyes, and anyone who wanted to make the mistake of trying to be sociable. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to actually get some work done, for a change.  
  
After an hour and a half of productive studying, I was disturbed by someone I'd never expected to see with a book, let alone in a Library. The gamekeeper - Hagrid. He clomped over to the shelves right next to my table, and took down a few books, examining them to see if they were what he was looking for. I glared at him for five seconds, wrinkled my nose, waited another five seconds, just to be able to say that I had been patient, then grabbed up all my books, and moved to a table in the next section. This was the invisibility section - no one would bother me here.  
  
I returned to my studies, trying to pretend that I hadn't seen that. Hagrid had NOT come into the dangerous creatures section of the Library, and I don't care if he did.  
  
Minutes later, I was distracted, again, by a yell, "Hagrid!" that was Weasley's voice. And so much for pretending it never happened. And I'd honestly thought the gamekeeper was illiterate. "What are you doing in a Library?" Weasley asked. Good question, especially considering the I.Q. of the person asking it.  
  
"Jus' lookin'." was the unconvincing reply. Wait a second ... what section was he in? Dangerous creatures. That can NOT be good. "An' what're you lot up ter?" he asked. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"  
  
"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago." Weasley said loudly. The way he's talking, you'd think he was the one who'd found it. I'll bet anything it was Hermione who really found it. I kind of hope it was in the book I gave her. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher's St-"  
  
"Shhhh!" Hagrid hissed. Yes - do shut up, Weasley. Do you want the whole school to know? On that topic, I wonder how many other students have worked it out, already. They lowered their voices, and the rest of the conversation was inaudible from where I sat. Stupid Weasley. Well, at least I know how much they know. Maybe they'll work out that Quirrell's up to no good, some one of these days, too.  
  
What I wouldn't give for a good poison, and a reason to offer Quirrell a drink. But, of course, that would be too easy.  
  
Another hour passed, and I managed to get a surprising amount of work done. Then I decided to go back to the common room. It was starting to get late.  
  
As I emerged from the concealed area where I had been studying, I saw precisely two people there. Madam Pince, and Hermione. "Friends left you all alone, have they, Granger?" I asked, as I wandered over to the table she was studying at.  
  
"I wanted to stay and get more revision done, before I went back to the common room." she said, tilting her chin up in a way that was designed to make one feel lower and less significant than her ... of course, that trick never works on a Malfoy, but it's the thought that counts.  
  
"Right." I said with a disbelieving tone, which earned me a vicious glare, "I overheard Weasley mentioning a Philosopher's Stone, earlier." her jaw dropped at this, "Don't worry," I said, waving my hand dismissively, "I already knew what it was, anyway. Now I know how far you've gotten. Have you worked out who wants it, yet?"  
  
"Yes." she said haughtily.  
  
"Spill the beans, then." I said, smirking,  
  
"No." was her simple, yet annoying response.  
  
"I gave you that book, earlier in the year ... it was where you found Flamel, wasn't it?" I asked, smirking.  
  
She looked stunned, "I totally forgot about that," she said.  
  
"So who do you think is after the Stone?" I asked.  
  
"Snape." she answered. I tried not to laugh - Madam Pince wouldn't approve, if I did.  
  
"You're kidding, right? It is NOT Snape." I said, smirking.  
  
"Who says you're right? You might be the one who got it wrong ... ever thought of that?" she asked.  
  
"That thought never even considered pondering the possibility of crossing my mind." I said, keeping a straight face, "I have proof. It's not Snape."  
  
"Are you going to tell me who it is, then?" she asked, tetchily.  
  
I looked around, noted Pince's disappearance and the absence of anyone, whatsoever, to listen in. I then leaned right over, so I could whisper in her ear, lowering my voice to the faintest whisper - I wasn't about to take ANY chances, "Snape has been loyal to Dumbledore, since before you or I were born ... and who's new this year? Hell, which subject gets a new teacher every year? Quirrell is the one who's after it, and that stutter is a total fake. Why, prey tell, would an expert on the subject and handling of trolls run screaming and faint at one small enough to walk through the school corridors? I have conclusive proof that it's him ... proof that it could literally kill me to tell anyone, even you ... and I've already said to much." I stood up straight and looked around fearfully, "If he finds out I saw him ... just trust me, Granger, please."  
  
"Trust you, Malfoy? Ha!" she responded, "That really is funny. I saw Snape jinxing Harry's broom, during the first Quidditch match. I saw it."  
  
"And I saw both Snape and Quirrell casting jinxes. One of them had to have been a counter-curse." I retorted.  
  
"Well, why'd it stop when Snape was distracted?"  
  
"Snape knocked Quirrell over - quite deliberately, I thought - when his robes caught on fi-" I stopped mid-word, as realisation nearly gave me a concussion from the force it hit me with, "It was you - you set Snape's robes on fire, didn't you?" I said, with a triumphant grin, "Well done, Granger. No one has ever done anything like that to Snape, without being caught." rabbit-in-headlights looks were being directed at me, so I added, "I won't turn you in. It's just good to know that someone did it."  
  
She seemed to recover from that panic-induced-catatonia, blinked, and said, "But I don't think you're right. It couldn't be him."  
  
"Please, trust me. Or if you can't bring yourself to do that, then at least don't trust Quirrell." I said plaintively.  
  
"Fine. Whatever." she said, sounding exasperated.  
  
* * *  
  
"No." Derrick said firmly.  
  
"Snowflake in Hell." Bole added.  
  
"Aww, c'mon. Please. Look, I'll pay you for it." I really had hoped they'd like the idea, but Bole and Derrick were wearing glares that said 'go away, you little brat, you're in over your head'. Of course, I knew that already - I was just trying to get someone to help me out.  
  
"We said 'no', didn't we?" Derrick asked.  
  
"Yeah, but I thought the prospect of payment might have affected your decision." I noted. I wasn't tiptoeing around the fact that I was trying to bribe them. Everyone has a price - EVERYONE.  
  
"How much?" Bole asked.  
  
"Ummm." that was a good question. How much was I willing to pay to have them take out Quirrell, "I'll pay you ten Galleons."  
  
"Why are you so keen on losing our DADA teacher, anyway? He's such a softie, we can get away with anything." Derrick asked.  
  
"Not to mention the legal implications. I mean, you're asking for attempted murder." Bole noted, "That does NOT come cheap."  
  
"I don't want ATTEMPTED murder. I want murder. And I'll pay you twenty." I said, "If you pull it off. If you can, that is." I taunted, deciding to go for their egos ... it's the weakest link in most males (myself included - I still fall for it all the time).  
  
"Twenty Galleons." Derrick said sceptically, "For risk of expulsion and possibly even Azkaban. Get real."  
  
"It'd be considered a sports accident - people get killed in professional Quidditch on average once a year." I said, "And when they examine the body, they'll be glad he's dead."  
  
"What do you know, Malfoy?" Bole asked suspiciously.  
  
"Enough to know we'll all be better off without Quirrell." I said, trying not to give too much away.  
  
Derrick gave me a searching look, as if he was trying to read my mind, with no success. "I don't trust you."  
  
Bole, on the other hand. "Make it fifty, and I'll have a shot." he said, smirking, "But full payment in advance, and no refunds."  
  
"No way." I said, "You get paid for eliminating him, not taking a shot at him. And only after you succeed."  
  
"You are really pushing it, Malfoy." Bole informed me.  
  
"I'm not doing this." Derrick said, "But I'll not rat you out, if you do manage to kill him." with that, he left.  
  
"Well?" I asked, looking to Bole.  
  
"Fifty?"  
  
"Fine." I said, nodding, "But only after you crack his skull. I want a head-shot."  
  
"I'll try my best." Bole said, grinning, "Just tell me why you want him dead?"  
  
"You don't want to know." I answered.  
  
Bole gave me a curious look, "You're only a first year, and you're already paying to have people killed off? You've got some nerve, kid," he said, with a smirk, "You got a deal."  
  
"Deal." I replied, and we shook on it.  
  
* * *  
  
And so to the match. Slytherin vs Ravenclaw. I got myself a good seat, with a view of the teachers' box. There were only four teachers up there - Snape, Quirrell, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Bole better have good aim - Snape is my favourite teacher. I settled in my seat, and grinned. This would be worth five hundred Galleons, if Bole pulls it off, and he only managed to haggle it up to fifty. Then again, he doesn't know the significance of who he's been hired to kill.  
  
Cat, Blaise, and Theo arrived, and claimed the seats to my left. "Hey." I said, by way of greeting, "Theo, I talked to the Beaters."  
  
"You did?" Theo asked, stunned, "I was only joking, when I said that - you do realise that?"  
  
"I know you were only kidding, but I liked the idea." I said, smirking.  
  
"Well?" Theo asked.  
  
"Bole's going to take a shot at him. If he gets a kill, he gets fifty Galleons." I said, watching Quirrell with an evil glint in my eyes - I had no mirror present, but I know when I've got that evil look.  
  
"Fifty Galleons?!" all three of them repeated, stunned.  
  
"How much would you pay, for someone to knock off Evil-Incarnate-Wannabie?" I asked.  
  
"More than that." Cat said, "You got yourself a good deal."  
  
Blaise simply nodded, but Theo gawped at me, "Fifty Galleons! Gods, he's a sell-out. I'm surprised you could buy a kill that cheap ... even if he didn't know who his target really is."  
  
I shrugged, but the conversation stopped abruptly, when Pansy parked herself in the seat to my right. "Hi, Drackey." I do wish she would stop calling me that. Wonder if I could get a contract taken out on her, too.  
  
"Hi, Pans." I replied, "Please don't call me that."  
  
Pansy pouted, but didn't say anything else.  
  
We all turned our attention to air above, as the game commenced.  
  
Right away, Ravenclaw took the Quaffle, and set about confusing our Chasers. I was more interested in watching the Seekers and Beaters. Derrick was flying lower, protecting the Chasers, while Bole had flown up to Higgs, and whacked a Bludger away from him. Higgs was still circling too low and too tightly - I was so going to get on the team, next year. Bole maintained his altitude, giving the impression of protecting the Seeker. Which is a good idea, considering rule number one in the Beater's Bible is 'take out the Seeker'. And he got a couple of good shots at the Ravens' Seeker, too.  
  
Twenty minutes later, and I was getting bored. Ravens were ahead on points, but not by too much. Higgs was looking useless ... but I hadn't spotted the Snitch yet either, so I couldn't complain. Bole was still on Seeker patrol. And as soon as I looked away, a huge gasp of shock erupted from the audience. I looked back up to see Bole hovering near the teachers' box.  
  
"And Slytherin Beater, Bole, deflected a Bludger straight into the teachers' box. Nearly took Quirrell's be-turbaned head off," the commentator announced. Nearly - important word - NEARLY. Damn. "The Bludger's gone back to the game, now - and I think Quirrell is throwing an epileptic fit." that sounded good. See if he falls out of the box. "No. He's fine. Well, it looks like DADA class isn't gonna be cancelled, folks."  
  
Bugger. Shit. Damn. Crap. Hell. And any other swear-words that I can't think of right now, as well.  
  
The Evil-Git lives. I'll bet Bole will want paid, anyway. Well sod that - we had a deal - dead Quirrell or no payment.  
  
"So much for that." Theo muttered to me. I nodded, and resumed my vigil on the Seekers. The Ravens' Seeker dived first, but Higgs spotted her and plummeted after her. She was not riding a Nimbus 2000, so Higgs actually had time to overtake her.  
  
We won!!  
  
We won the Quidditch match, anyway. Shame the homicide attempt failed, though.  
  
* * *  
  
I was now sulking. I wish I'd seen exactly what had happened. Either Quirrell dodged/ducked, or Bole missed. Either way, I was in a seriously bad mood, when I returned to the dorm.  
  
"And what are you two up to?" I asked, as I stalked into the room, to see Crabbe and Goyle bent over a piece of parchment.  
  
"Reading." Crabbe answered.  
  
"I didn't know you could read." I said immediately.  
  
They didn't realise that I was joking, and Goyle said, "Yes, we can."  
  
"Anything that doesn't have cardboard pages, three words to a page, and a guarantee that it's non-poisonous if chewed?" I asked.  
  
Again, they didn't get it. "We're planning an attack on the Gryffindors." Crabbe said dully.  
  
"Like what?" I asked, joining them and looking over Goyle's shoulder at the page. "This'll never work, but I'm surprised you two came up with such a good idea, on your own." I said, looking at the map of the school dungeons, covered in their scrawled plans to spike the pumpkin juice on the Gryffindor table with a laughing potion.  
  
"What'd we get wrong?" Goyle asked, looking up at me stupidly.  
  
"You need to spike the juice after it's been divided into the four tables, otherwise we'll all get a dose." I said, re-reading their roughly scrawled notes. "And I'd advise against just walking into the kitchens, without a diversion. The house elves wouldn't let Slytherins near the Gryffindors' food, anymore than they'd let the Gryffindors near ours. Vermin, they may be, but they're not stupid."  
  
They both had blank looks.  
  
"Keep trying." I said, smirking, "You might actually do something right, by yourselves, for once." It would be good to teach them to have a mind of their own, for a change. It'd mean I could distance myself from them, a bit. I don't like the way they talk about the Dark Times, like it was a great and wonderful thing ... war, destruction, terror, people killing people ... that's not usually considered good, by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
And unless someone catches on to Quirrell, there's a real chance that it could happen again. I was very happy to live after the Dark Times ended, and I don't want to see them return. I don't want to see Him return.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 7 


	8. Dragon Detention

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.  
  
Chapter 8 - Dragon = Detention  
  
I had gotten over the disappointment of Quirrell continuing to inhale and exhale, and was trying to think up another way to get him, to no avail. I would not give up. Slytherins never give up.  
  
I had spent breakfast-time telling Pansy all about how I escaped the Muggle-helicopters, for the umpteenth time. Since Flint wouldn't let me on the team, I had started re-telling that story, just to get to him. As such, Pansy had scarpered before I finished my breakfast. Crabbe and Goyle had followed suit. So THAT'S how to get rid of them. I was on my way to Charms class, minding my own business (yes, I can do that, believe it or not), when I overheard a familiar voice.  
  
Weasley. "Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"  
  
Dragon? Hatching? Where? When? I stopped dead, listening carefully, hoping to learn more. Hermione responded to Weasley's comment, with a scolding tone, "We've got lessons, we'll get in trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"  
  
"Shut up!" Potter whispered to them, looking at me. I raised an eyebrow, trying hard not to smirk. He dragged the other two away, leaving me alone with some new information to go over.  
  
I think I now know why that great oaf was in the dangerous creatures section of the Library. Maybe he'll set his whole house on fire, instead of just his bed, now. I wonder if I can blackmail them with this. Probably.  
  
I wasn't concentrating in Charms class, to the extent that I accidentally cast a silencing charm on Professor Flitwick, instead of casting a speaking charm on my textbook. That was funny, until someone removed it and he took twenty points from Slytherin for it.  
  
I decided to investigate what I had heard earlier. It might be interesting.  
  
"Pansy. Remember what I was saying at breakfast?" I asked, forcing myself to keep a straight face. She nodded, with a look that resembled fear, "Well, you see, I was flying over -"  
  
She ran away at top speed. Too easy. I turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who backed up a few steps, before following Pansy. Far far too easy.  
  
I abandoned any idea of food, as I slipped out the front doors, and down near the Forest, staying hidden from the tiny hut. I hate that Forest. It scares me. At least it's the middle of the day - I couldn't face it at night. They say there are werewolves in there. Werewolves really scare me. I shivered, as I crept round the edge of the Forest and up to the side of the hut. I can't believe anyone could live in such a small squalid place. It's revolting. I could hear muffled sounds, like voices from inside, but no matter how hard I strained my ears, I couldn't make out what they were saying. I moved round a little farther, and peered in through the window. It was dark inside - only a fire in the grate, and the light from the few small windows, to see by. But I could clearly see the small black creature on the table. A baby dragon and, from the shell-fragments scattered around, I would guess that it had just hatched. Then the Large-Hairy-One looked up and saw me.  
  
I'm not stupid. I ran. I ran as fast as I could up to the school, not looking back. I don't know if they saw me - even if they did, they might not have recognised me. I didn't stop running, until I got to the common room.  
  
"Draco. What happened to you?" Cat asked.  
  
"I ran all the way up here, from the edge of the Forest." I answered truthfully.  
  
"Why were you at the edge of the Forest?" Cat asked, suspicion evident in her tone.  
  
"Ever heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'?" I asked harshly, "I am entitled to go where I want. I wasn't actually IN the Forest ... nor would I ever want to set foot there."  
  
"Sor-ry." she said, in that way that means she so was not.  
  
"Anything we might be interested in?" Theo asked. I knew he meant 'anything to do with Lord Ugly-Face', but he wasn't going to mention it in front of the rest of the house.  
  
"Yes - you would be interested to know what I was doing there, but it's not life-threatening. None of your business and, to be honest, none of mine either, but I was there anyway." I said, shrugging.  
  
"You were spying on someone?" Milli asked.  
  
"Yes. I was spying on someone, and now will proceed to think of a way to blackmail them with it. I will not be telling any of you, so M.Y.O.F.B."  
  
"Translate that last part into English, please." Theo said.  
  
I spoke slowly, as if I was talking to a two-year-old, a mental patient, or Crabbe and Goyle, "The 'M' is for 'mind'. The 'Y' is for 'your'. The 'O' is for 'own'. The 'B' is for business. And the 'F' is for ... emphasis."  
  
* * *  
  
I watched those three, for a fortnight, and their behaviour confirmed that they were just as guilty as Hagrid. At the very least, they were withholding evidence, or aiding and abetting. Quirrell was getting a little run-down, and seemed even more jumpy, but he made no new moves in that time, so I focused on Potter and his gang. Theo and the girls were watching Quirrell closely enough, anyway. If anything came up, they'd tell me ... right?  
  
What bothered me most was, where had Hagrid managed to get a dragon's egg? They're completely illegal - class A non-tradable. And even on the black-market (I've seen Fireball, and Vipertooth eggs on sale in Knockturn Alley) they do NOT come cheap. The chances of the Hogwarts gamekeeper ever getting enough Galleons to afford one were astronomical.  
  
Still, there were no clues given as to where it came from, only that it was growing fast. And the only clue to that would be the true terror on Potter, Weasley and Granger's faces when they visited the gamekeeper's hut ... which they did more often than usual, now (yes, I watch him all the time, and know how often he used to go down there. Yes, I'm obsessed with Potter - I want to destroy him, and everything he holds dear - preferably involving some degree of painful torture, along the way).  
  
I don't know why they keep going down there, with that thing - it's probably already half the size of the hut, by now. If they've got an ounce of sanity between them, they're trying to convince the fool to get rid of it. Probably not, then - these are Gryffindors we're talking about, after all.  
  
And then, on Thursday lunchtime, I heard something that was just irresistible, "Ron Weasley was sent to the Hospital Wing, by Flitwick. He couldn't hold his wand, for the swelling - it looked to me like a bite, but what would leave a bite-mark like that? It looked venomous, if you ask me."  
  
Thank heavens for Ravenclaw gossipmongers. I overheard that from the Ravenclaw Patil twin, talking to some of her friends, behind me. Those girls, and their Gryffindor and Hufflepuff friends, are the reason why it's so difficult to keep a secret in this castle. Slytherin girls don't gossip like that ... admittedly, they will sell information for a good price, but they don't just blab all over the place.  
  
I couldn't not take this opportunity - it would be too nice of me if I just let him be. And with the intent of tormenting the boy (and possibly finding out more about the dragon, but that would just be a bonus to irritating Weasley), I left lunch early, promising Pansy that I was NOT sneaking off to see another girl, and telling the Brainless Boys that I would meet them next class.  
  
"No, Mr Malfoy, you may not see him. He needs rest and medical care, and should not be disturbed." Madam Pomfrey said, as she blocked my way.  
  
"Please, Ma'am. I need to borrow a book for my Potions homework. I won't take long." I said, putting on my talking-to-people-who-had-something-I-want voice. And I tried the puppy-dog-eyes effect, as well - that might have been overkill, but she fell for it, and that's what counts.  
  
She sighed, in that world-weary way that Jewish mothers have, before saying, "Very well. Ten minutes. No more." and with that, she let me past. She didn't even follow me into the room. I'll have to remember to stay on her good side, so I can pull that trick more often.  
  
I strolled into the room, with my best smug-smirk. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." I said, as I stopped next to Weasley. "Except I don't think it was a cat that bit you. Pomfrey said you told her it was a dog." I shook my head knowingly, "Not that either. How about I tell her what really bit you?"  
  
"You dare, and I'll -"  
  
"You'll what?" I asked, "You do anything to me, and I'll let everyone know what Hagrid's been up to. I don't think anyone would be too happy about it, if they knew."  
  
"How'd you get in here, anyway?" Weasley asked suspiciously.  
  
"I need to borrow your Potions book. At least, that's what I said, so you won't mind when I walk out with it - will you? You'll get it back in the morning, anyway." I said calmly. "But tell me something. Where'd he get that egg from, anyway?"  
  
"I don't know, and even if I did, I'd not tell you." Weasley snapped.  
  
"Temper, temper." I said, enjoying the game ... the funny part is, he doesn't realise that messing with his head is only a game to me. "You don't want me to tell Pomfrey what bit you, do you?"  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" he growled, barely containing his infamous temper.  
  
"I want to know where Hagrid's new pet came from. I want to know why you three haven't told on him, yet. I want to know how long you think you can keep that thing a secret, even if I don't tell. And most importantly, I want to laugh at you, for getting bitten by ... what's it called, anyway?"  
  
"None of your business!" Ron snapped.  
  
"That's an odd name. Seriously - that 'man' names his pets. What name did he give it?" I asked, deliberately making the word 'man' sound sarcastic. Weasley glared at me. I smirked, "Tell me what its name is, or I'll tell everyone about it."  
  
Weasley glared at me some more, before rolling his eyes and submitting to the inevitable logic that even he couldn't deny, "Norbert." he said, now glaring at the wall a few feet to my right.  
  
"Norbert? You're kidding, right? Wow, is he bad with names, or what?" I asked, deliberately trying to wind Weasley up. It was working - I was getting the death-glare, again. I feel like I'm not doing my job properly if I don't get that death-glare from him at least once a day. I responded to the death-glare with a smirk - that just made him madder. "I hope he's not planning on keeping it there. I didn't see what species it was, but even the smallest one won't fit in that cabin at two months old." I said, watching Weasley's reaction to that. He didn't let anything show on his face - I'm surprised - Gryffindors are usually an open book, from their facial expressions alone ... but not even his eyes gave anything away.  
  
"Go away, Malfoy." he said, in a tone that was supposed to sound ominous, but failed miserably.  
  
I wandered over to the table, and snatched the Potions book from his bag. I would have gone through his things in more detail, but Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to appear. "Out. Go on, let my patient get some rest."  
  
"Whatever." I muttered, giving Weasley one more superior smirk, before leaving with the book.  
  
* * *  
  
On my own, I sat in the dorm room, pondering the dragon situation. "Why did I take this, anyway?" I asked myself, looking at the book. I knew the answer - I needed to make my visit look authentic. And that was a total waste of time - I didn't find out anything ... except the dragon's name. Norbert. Who would call a dragon Norbert? O.K., so Dogbert and Catbert are recognised experts on manipulation and domination, even by Wizards - their books are on the bookshelf in the Slytherin common room. Nor-bert. Maybe it was a Norwegian Ridgeback ... that, at least would make some sense. Still. Bored now.  
  
Hello. There's a bookmark in it. I opened the book, to see what he'd marked - I hadn't expected Weasley to be interested enough in the subject to bookmark something. A potion to turn a rat yellow? What the hell? I know he had a rat for a familiar - probably found it in his basement, and couldn't afford anything better - but why on Earth would he want to turn it, or any other rat, yellow? I shook my head in bemusement. Little amuses the idiots.  
  
Hold on - the 'bookmark' has writing on it. I picked it up, and unfolded it. It's not a bookmark at all - it's a letter. Ron Weasley's personal letter from ... I looked at the bottom, to see the name ... Charlie. Was that one of his brothers? It better be, if it's signed 'love, Charlie' ... otherwise, I really do not want to know.  
  
To read, or not to read ... that is the question. Even I have some limits. But blackmail material on Ron Weasley is definitely a good reason to read it. And one of my father's favourite sayings is: 'To succeed in life, it is often necessary to rise above your principles' ... I read the letter.  
  
'Dear Ron,  
  
How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take  
  
the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting  
  
him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over  
  
with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me  
  
next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying  
  
an illegal dragon.  
  
Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at  
  
midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and  
  
take him away while it's still dark.  
  
Send me an answer as soon as possible.  
  
Love,  
  
Charlie.'  
  
They were sending the dragon away. I was going to lose this blackmail over them. Damn. I hadn't expected this - I had honestly thought they would be stupid enough to keep it. Hagrid certainly would, so that means they must have talked him into letting it go. I really ought to tell someone - get them caught. The highest tower is out of bounds at the best of times, but if they've got an illegal dragon with them, that'd just seal the deal.  
  
Expulsion is too good for him, but I didn't want to let this go without doing something.  
  
* * *  
  
Weasley was still in the Hospital Wing, and missed Potions class, so he didn't get his book back. He can just damned well wait till the next Potions class, then, can't he?  
  
"It's too bad Weasley's not going to be better in time for Saturday night, isn't it?" I said to Crabbe and Goyle, near the end of the lesson.  
  
"Why?" Goyle asked stupidly.  
  
"Because he'll not get caught. The other two will, though." I whispered conspiratorially, pointing at Potter and Hermione. "They're going up the Astronomy Tower - no not for that - they're planning to meet some friends of one of Weasley's brothers. They're smuggling an illegal dragon out of the country, and I'm going to catch them."  
  
"A dragon?" Crabbe asked a little too loudly.  
  
"Keep your voice down, you prat!" I hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard. I glared at the only person who seemed to be looking our way - Longbottom, "What are you looking at, Toad Boy?" he jumped, and returned his full attention to his work. "Not like he matters, anyway." I muttered, "But you two are my alibi - if Potter gets caught, and says he saw me there as well, you will say I never left the dorm - understood?"  
  
Two dumb nods were all the answer I received.  
  
* * *  
  
On Saturday night, I left the safety of the common room, and made my way to the entrance to the tower. I got there at about five minutes to midnight. No sign of them. I would just wait, and when they showed up, I'd hit them with the leg-locker curse (which I have been practicing on Longbottom - got him three times, so far) and leave them for Filch to find. All I had to do was avoid Filch, myself.  
  
Filch didn't catch me. Oh no. It was McGonagall - what she was doing up and about at this hour, I have no idea, but she was anything but pleased. Then again, she does have a vendetta against Slytherins in general, and a grudge against me specifically. I got landed with a detention, and twenty points lost for Slytherin.  
  
Snape was none too pleased, either, but since I was trying to get Potter in trouble, he let me off with the punishment McGonagall had already given.  
  
I was consoled for my loss of house points, however, when I walked past the hourglasses that told the house-point totals.  
  
"Bloody Hell!" I said in amazement.  
  
"Which Gryffindor murdered someone?" Theo asked, stunned.  
  
"How much did they lose, exactly?" Michael asked, behind me.  
  
"Looks like about ... one hundred and fifty, to me." Blaise said. We were all now wearing stupid grins, but that didn't matter, because there was not a hope in hell of Gryffindor making a comeback from THAT.  
  
"And I think I know who did it, too." I said.  
  
"Who?" Pansy asked. The entire group of Slytherins were looking at me, now.  
  
"Potter. He was out in the middle of the night." I said, grinning.  
  
"Potter? The famous Harry Potter has screwed up. This is great!" some seventh year cheered.  
  
And, speak of the devil. Potter chose that moment to appear. He was greeted by cheering, and praise, from most of the Slytherins. I stood back, out of the way, and tried not to laugh. He was not a happy bunny. Then again, I'd be upset if I'd lost that many house points, and was being mobbed and praised by my enemies. But I'm not the one that it's happened to, so I was enjoying myself. Suffer, Potter, suffer.  
  
* * *  
  
Theo approached me, two weeks before we had exams, in the middle of the packed Library (exam-time, the Library actually gets used, more often). "Got news for you," he said, sitting down opposite.  
  
Blaise and Cat appeared, at the table, too. They sat next to us, looking attentive, "O.K., Theo. What's up?" Cat asked.  
  
"Quirrell. I saw him head off to the Forest, last night. I was out for another Quirrell-induced detention, scrubbing the floor of the Entrance Hall, and he bolted past me, muttering to himself. Something about he was sorry, and he didn't mean to offend ... whoever he was talking to. And he was really really pale - I mean, that flu-curse didn't do anything to him - it's like he's anaemic, or something."  
  
"You really ought to stop pulling those pranks in his class." Cat said sternly, "One of these days, he might catch on and give you worse than a detention."  
  
Theo gulped, not sure what that might imply, but knowing it couldn't be good, "Anyway. He went out there, last night, and when I saw him in the Great Hall for breakfast, he had all the colour back again. Have any of you three got ANY ideas what's up with that?"  
  
"No idea." Blaise said, with a distant voice that said she was still stunned by what she'd just been told.  
  
Cat shook her head, and I frowned. The Forbidden Forest is not a good place to go if you want to improve your health. There are many dangerous creatures in there - werewolves, for one (have I mentioned, werewolves scare the hell out of me?). I couldn't imagine anything there that might improve human health. Now, a vampire, maybe ... but Quirrell and the Turban-Tenant aren't vampiric ... are they? That's not a good thought. "I can't think of anything, unless he's a vampire." I said, trying to make it sound like a joke ... I wasn't too sure, myself.  
  
"That would not be a pretty picture." Cat said, "As if he's a pretty picture, as it is." she added.  
  
* * *  
  
My detention finally rolled around, one week before the exams. And Potter, Granger and Longbottom were there, too. I had been told to meet Filch in the Entrance Hall, at eleven o'clock at night, and I made a point of not being late. Potter and company were four minutes and forty-five seconds late - Filch commented on this.  
  
Filch prattled on about the good old days when misbehavers were hung up by their ankles in the dungeons, as he led us outside, and down towards the gamekeeper's hut. Hagrid yelled for Filch to hurry up, and Potter seems to take that as a good sign ... I guess, since he is friends with the 'man' and has helped him break the law, there is a chance he'll go easy on Potter.  
  
Filch also noticed Potter's reaction, however, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf?" he asked, with a yellow-toothed sneer - revolting Squib, "Well, think again, boy - it's into the Forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."  
  
No way.  
  
I stopped in my tracks, staring in horror at the insolent Squib, "The Forest? We can't go in there at night - there's all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard." I really do not like werewolves.  
  
"That's your lookout, isn't it?" Filch said, grinning sadistically, "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"  
  
'I didn't exactly expect to be sent into the Forest for detention, you git!' I wanted to yell at him, 'Theo's had dozens of detentions, and he's never even been outdoors for them! This is bloody dangerous! I am NOT going in there! I am NOT going to let myself be turned into a werewolf-snack, just for your perverse amusement!' but I didn't. I'd just get in more trouble for it, if I did.  
  
The gamekeeper approached us, glaring at Filch, with his slobbering mutt following closely. "Abou' time, I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"  
  
"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said evilly. Yeah, don't it's not fair - I disapprove of favouritism (unless I'm the one being favoured, of course), "they're here to be punished, after all."  
  
"That's why yer late, is it? Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here." Hagrid growled. I'm pretty sure he didn't like Filch. Neither did I, but I didn't like Hagrid, either.  
  
"I'll be back at dawn, for what's left of them," Filch sneered, showing his revolting yellow teeth again, before stalking back to the castle, the warmth, the light, and the safety, with no werewolves in there, and no other monsters, and ... I'm depressing myself - I'll stop that, now.  
  
I turned away from the inviting sight of the castle, and glared at the gamekeeper, "I'm not going in that Forest." I snapped, silently praying my fear wasn't noticeable in my voice.  
  
"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts. Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it." he replied harshly.  
  
I tried to protest ... any excuse ... any reason I could possibly come up with of not to go into that Forest ... I said the first thing that I could think of, "But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd -"  
  
"- tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid interrupted. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather yeh were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."  
  
My eyes narrowed, and I glared. I tried to stare him out, but he had a point. I definitely did not want to get expelled. That would not be good. Father would kill me, or worse, disown me, if I got expelled. I gave in, and turned my glare on the ground.  
  
"Right then. Now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment." the gamekeeper said, as he led us up to the edge of the Forest, where there was a track leading into its depths.  
  
I felt a slight breeze hit me, and shivered. I was really terrified, now. I was having trouble deciding which was more frightening - the idea of going into that Forest, or the thought of what would happen if I told Quirrell I was the one spying on him. It was pretty much a dead heat - no, I didn't want to think the word 'dead' - they were pretty much equally scary.  
  
Hagrid pointed to the ground, saying, "Look there. See that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."  
  
Unicorns!?! Something's KILLING UNICORNS!?! "And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" I asked, terrified, and not caring if anyone noticed.  
  
Hagrid gave me the look that says, 'you are really beginning to get on my nerves', as he said, "There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang. An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."  
  
If it'll hurt unicorns, it'll not stop at an oversized hairball and his pet gamekeeper. "I want Fang," I said immediately. Fang is a name for a fierce guard-dog type. That dog is big and has sharp teeth. I want something with sharp teeth on my side, if I have to go in there.  
  
"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward." I stared in horror - bloody Hell - that's not fair. I decided his ability to name animals was severely impaired. He split us into groups (I got stuck with Longbottom) and told us to shoot green sparks in the air if we found the unicorn, and red if we got in trouble. Right. Can I go home, now?  
  
* * *  
  
Inside the Forest was pitch black. The moon was three-quarters and pretty bright, but it didn't get through the trees. Neither did the stars. Longbottom had the lantern, and I had lit the tip of my wand. Lumos is about the third Charm they teach, after sparks and levitation, and Longbottom still couldn't manage it properly.  
  
Still, there wasn't enough light. Shadows reached out to us from all sides, trying to suck us into the darkness. Shadows that concealed ... gods know what, and I don't want to.  
  
After a while, the canopy of leaves thinned, and the occasional ray of moonlight shone through. That didn't help, because all it did was reflect off the shiny silver blood on the ground, and remind me that there is something here that KILLS UNICORNS. Unicorns are the purest innocence - beautiful, powerful, and practically divine - to kill one is the highest crime, worse by far than murdering a human. If it would kill a unicorn, it wouldn't hesitate to eliminate anyone who happened to cross it.  
  
I decided to take my eyes off the blood, and looked at the sky. Stars were twinkling now, and I could see them through the trees. The stars helped calm my nerves. Astronomy is one of my favourite subjects, and it always seems to calm me down to just look up into the night sky. Even if I am in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, looking for a murderer of the worst kind, with only Longbottom and a cowardly mutt for company. I noticed that something in the sky shone a little brighter than usual, but I couldn't identify it without my charts. Just then, I heard a snapping of twigs, and rustling right next to me. I jumped in fright, and (I will never live this down, but I do have to admit it, don't I?) I grabbed Longbottom - he was the nearest familiar, non-hostile presence, since Fang was ahead of us. Longbottom panicked, even more than I had, and shot red sparks into the air, before he realised who had grabbed him.  
  
"What did you do that for?" he all-but-yelled.  
  
I didn't have time to come up with a convincing lie before there was a loud crashing sound in the undergrowth, and the huge figure of the gamekeeper appeared. "Wha's goin' on 'ere?" he asked.  
  
"Malfoy snuck up behind me, and grabbed me." Longbottom answered, trembling.  
  
Hagrid rolled his eyes, before glaring at me, "Righ'" he said angrily, then grabbed both of us, and retraced his path through the undergrowth - the mutt followed. He finally let us go when we reached another path. Potter and Hermione were both there, looking fearful. Good - at least I'm not the only one (Longbottom doesn't count - he's scared of his shadow). Hagrid explained to the other two what Longbottom had told him had happened, finishing with, "We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot." Idiot! Who's he to call me an idiot? He whispered something I couldn't hear, to Potter, before leading Hermione and Longbottom away, along the path.  
  
Now I was stuck with Scaredy-Dog and The-Boy-Who-Wears-Stupid-Glasses. At least I had one less coward with me, now - Potter was a true Gryffindor, unlike Squib-Wannabie - he'd stand up to Snape in a bad mood if he had a good reason to. I, on the other hand, admit to being terrified, and would be glad to get out of here.  
  
I didn't want to know how long we'd been in this bloody cursed Forest (literally, on both counts), but it felt like hours. The path started to get narrower, and overgrown ... and as it got harder to follow the path, it got easier to follow the blood - there was a lot more of it.  
  
I had a bad feeling about this. More blood means we're getting closer to the source of said blood. Getting closer to the victim means we're getting closer to the killing ground. The only reason I wasn't openly panicking was because I adamantly refused to let Potter see weakness in me.  
  
We reached a clearing, and I was just about to step out, away from the claustrophobia-inspiring path, when Potter stopped me. "Look -" he whispered, too frightened to speak any louder, and when I did look I saw why. At the far side of the clearing, lying on the ground and surrounded by a pool of silver, was the unicorn we had been looking for. Dead. I had to blink to stop tears from forming in my eyes, at the sight of it - such a beautiful creature - nothing so pure should ever have to suffer such a violent death. Potter stepped forward into the clearing, but stopped staring at something ... I turned in time to see a dark figure emerge from the undergrowth. I froze with fear, and stared in abject horror as the figure, unidentifiable under a hooded cloak, moved silently to the unicorn, bent over it and put its mouth to the still bleeding wound on the animal's side.  
  
I couldn't believe it, for a moment. No one in their right mind - no one with a trace of humanity - would ever drink the blood of a unicorn. I blinked and when it was still there when I looked again ... I screamed. To Hell with not showing weakness to Potter - I didn't care anymore - I was out of there.  
  
I ran back down the path, as fast as I could. I could hear Slobber-Dog following me - at least I hoped it was the dog - I wasn't looking back.  
  
I got out of the Forest in one piece - which surprised me, but I was NOT complaining about it - and waited for the others, by Hagrid's hut. As we walked back up to the castle (with Filch prattling again), I chose to ignore the pale, petrified, and brain-not-in-while-deciding-what-just-happened look on Potter's face, because I was trying to figure that out for myself ... but I did note it for future reference.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 8 


	9. Gryffindors Rush In Where Angels Fear To...

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar. And all mention of my invention of Diplomatic Alley has been deleted.  
  
Chapter 9 - Gryffindors Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tread  
  
I returned to the dorm, at about four thirty in the morning. The other three boys were asleep, but Theo was a light sleeper, and the mere noise of closing the door woke him. It didn't wake the Synchronised Snorers, though.  
  
"Hey." he whispered, as I collapsed on my bed, "How was detention?"  
  
"Bloody awful." I replied.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
I sat up and looked at him solemnly. I explained, in detail, exactly what happened. Theo's expression became more disbelieving with every word I said, until I had finished.  
  
"No way." he whispered, "Unicorn blood ... that's ... that's beyond evil ... a word has yet to be invented to describe how wrong that is."  
  
I smiled bitterly, "Looks like my vampire theory wasn't too far off the mark, after all." I said.  
  
"You think...?" Theo asked, staring at me in shock, "But..." he seemed to be thinking it over, and then, "It does make sense ... I am SO not going near Quirrell ... EVER again." I lay back, blinking furiously, and trying not to think too much about what I'd seen. Theo looked at me, "Are you -?"  
  
"No, I am not crying." I snapped.  
  
"You nearly are." Theo informed me.  
  
"You would, if you'd seen it. Have you ever seen a dead unicorn?" he shook his head in response, "Believe me, it would make you want to cry - if I hadn't been afraid for my life, because of Lord Vladimir, I'd probably have cried in front of Potter - and you know how I feel about showing weakness to anyone, especially HIM." I said coldly. I stared adamantly at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the tear running down from my left eye into my hair. You'd have to be heartless to not feel a strong sense of bereavement at seeing a dead unicorn, let alone to kill it like Vampire-Wannabie did.  
  
"What are we supposed to do?" Theo asked, "We can't sit back and do nothing ... it'd be suicide. Half the people who joined Him got killed as pawns, and anyone who tried to oppose Him was eliminated."  
  
"But what can we do about it?" I asked, sitting up and looking at him, "We can't go to the teachers. I sure as hell am not going to try to confront Him myself. The hired assassin didn't work."  
  
"We could try that again. We've still got the Hufflepuff match. Or we could trick the Weasley twins into trying it." Theo suggested hopefully.  
  
"No. It would look far too suspicious if the same 'accident' happened twice." I said, staring at him in a vain attempt to see answers in his eyes.  
  
"The easiest way for evil to win is for good men to do nothing." Theo said, in a voice that had to be meant to impersonate Dumbledore ... not a very good impersonation, but it got the message across.  
  
"I wouldn't call myself a 'good man'." I responded coldly, "I prefer to sit somewhere in the middle. Gryffindors see black and white, but I like the grey areas much better. I'm not the type to risk my life for anyone else ... but I'd try to help, if I can do so safely."  
  
"Look at it this way, Draco. It's in our own survival interests to make sure He doesn't get what He's after. What is it that would be so bad if He got his hands on it, anyway?"  
  
"It's a Philosopher's Stone." I said, watching his reaction - his jaw nearly hit the floor.  
  
"No way." he whispered, shocked. The implications of this did not go unacknowledged. "If He got His hands on that ... the Elixir of Life could bring Him back, and cure the curse from the blood, too. Flaming Hades! No wonder you're so scared that He might get it. We have to tell someone about it. We have to."  
  
"Who?" I asked. None of the teachers would believe us, except possibly Snape, and I don't know which side he's really on.  
  
"Snape." Theo said almost instantly, "He'll believe us, and Dumbledore trusts him. Quirrell could be unemployed by tomorrow evening, if we told first thing."  
  
"I don't know if we can trust Snape." I said simply, "He was one of Them. He still hangs around with some of that crowd, and I saw him at our Christmas party."  
  
"We could just ask him. Like you asked me and Blaise."  
  
"What makes you think that'll do any good. He knows my father was one of Them. He'll think I'll expect him to say he's a Dark Lord fan, even if he isn't." I said, before I realised something, "But I should be able to tell if he's lying. I can tell when Father lies, and he lies for a living." I said.  
  
"Right. That's settled, then. We tell Snape. Now - sleep." and with that, Theo pulled the curtains around his bed, and the only sound remaining was the drone of Crabbe and Goyle's snoring.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning, we made a point of being up on time (that bloody alarm clock still yells at me, but now I've got it set to say obscenities, just for the humour value), and were to be found knocking on Snape's office door, five minutes before breakfast was due to start.  
  
"Enter!" Snape's voice snapped irritably, from inside the office. I opened the door and peered around it. Snape was glaring in my direction, but as soon as he saw who had the audacity to knock on his door at this hour, he seemed to relax. "Ah, Mr Malfoy." he said in a relatively pleasant voice. I stepped inside the office, and Theo appeared behind me. "Mr Nott." Snape noted, "What can I do for you two?"  
  
"We need to talk to you, Professor." I said, trying not to let my nervousness show.  
  
"Come in." Snape said, in a tone that said it should have been obvious, "Close the door, and sit down." I made a beeline for the seat next to the fire, even if it wasn't lit, while Theo closed the door and took the seat next to me - both seats were facing the desk Snape was stationed at. By the looks of it, he'd been up all night marking homework assignments. "So, what do you want to tell me, Mr Malfoy?" he asked - I'd swear he was trying to be nice to me ... probably still afraid of my father, after all that happened in the Dark Times - I've only heard rumours of the less gruesome parts.  
  
"I have to ask you a question, Professor. And you have to tell the truth." I said, sitting forward in the seat, with my back straight and my hands on my knees - I was nervous as hell, and trying not to show it. What if he gave me the wrong answer? What would I do then?  
  
"The truth is a terrible and dangerous thing, and should be avoided if at all possible." Snape said, watching us, "But I will not lie to you. If I cannot tell you the truth, I will not answer. Is that acceptable?"  
  
"Yes." Theo answered, nodding.  
  
I guess it was. At least if he said he wouldn't answer, then we could just go. "We wanted to ask you -" I paused, taking a deep breath - I really felt like I was jumping off a cliff, with this one ... I just hoped it's a soft landing. "What is your opinion of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" There - I said it. Now I waited for Shit and Fan to be formally introduced.  
  
Snape gave me a look that seemed to be trying to size me up, and evaluating me. He watched me for half a minute, and I held his gaze the whole time. Finally, he answered, "He was an extremely powerful dark wizard, who offered the world in exchange for your soul, and never kept his end of the deal. I would go out of my way to prevent his return to power, if it ever became an issue." he said, keeping eye contact the whole time - he didn't blink once. The chances of that being a lie were a million to one. For a Slytherin, his emotions are frighteningly close to the surface, and I doubt he could lie that well.  
  
"Right answer." I said, smiling. He seemed to let out a breath, as if he had been expecting Shit to meet Fan, too. "Now that we know which side you're on ... ours ... we have something to tell you." I looked around nervously, "Is this room secure?"  
  
"There are silencing spells, and wards against spying charms, around the entire room. I was aware that you brought a certain one of your Christmas presents here, and I didn't want to take any chances." Snape answered.  
  
I gave him a you-sneaky-bastard smirk, "I would never try to spy on you, sir." I said, "Anyway, to business."  
  
Snape gave us a look that said 'I'm listening', and Theo started the tale, "We have solid proof that Quirrell is working with You-Know-Who, and circumstantial evidence that he's been the one killing unicorns and he's after what's hidden in the Forbidden Corridor."  
  
That about summed it up, I thought. Very concise, too. Snape looked stunned, "I had been aware of Quirrell's unusual behaviour for some time." he said thoughtfully, "But I have no proof that he was working with the Dark Lord. I don't think the contents of the Forbidden Corridor are in any danger, as long as Dumbledore is here. And as to the unicorns - what ever gives you that idea?"  
  
"I saw him going out into the Forest a week ago, looking anaemic, and the next morning he looked very well and had colour in his cheeks." Theo started.  
  
"Then, in my detention in the Forest, we saw a hooded figure drinking the unicorn's blood. Needless to say, I didn't hang around to find out who it was, but two and two do make four." I added.  
  
"Interesting theory." Snape noted, "And what might your 'solid proof' be, as to Quirrell's connection to the Dark Lord?"  
  
"Uh." Theo looked blank, then turned to me.  
  
I chewed my lower lip, thinking - I really should tell the truth, here, shouldn't I? "I used my Christmas present. I was suspicious since the troll incident, and wanted to catch him off guard."  
  
"So you would use it against the teaching staff, but not me specifically? You have flexible morals, Mr Malfoy." Snape said, smirking.  
  
"And we saw what's under the turban - well, Cat and I did - Theo and Blaise sort of found out later ... after we asked them the same question I asked you when we came in here."  
  
"You aren't taking any chances. So only the four of you know about this? What about your friends, Crabbe and Goyle?" Snape asked.  
  
"Those two would throw a celebration party if You-Know-Who came back." I said, coldly, "So would Pansy, and I have no idea about Milli."  
  
"Hmmm. So what did you see? Or do I not want to know for fear of nausea?"  
  
"You don't want to know." I answered, feeling sick at the thought of it. Theo nodded in agreement with my statement. "But we're fairly certain that Quirrell is not only working for You-Know-Who, but he shares his body, mind and soul with Him."  
  
"That is a disturbing image." Snape said, giving me a searching look that made me feel like he could read my mind, "Would I be correct in assuming that the incident at the Ravenclaw Quidditch match was no accident?" he asked, looking at me with an intent stare. I'd bet anything that he could read lies as well as - if not better than - I can.  
  
"Well." I said, shifting in my seat, "Bole might have got the idea that he might get his hands on some money if the inside of Quirrell's head met with a Bludger." I said, not looking at Snape.  
  
"How much money?" Snape asked sternly.  
  
"Fifty galleons ... only if he succeeded." I said, still staring off to his left, my gaze fixed on something slimy in a jar that looked like it might be a slug.  
  
"The boy has low standards. No hit-man should take an offer that cheap." Snape muttered, before telling me, "I will pretend I didn't hear about that. I can assure you, however, that no one will be getting through the Forbidden Corridor, while Dumbledore is present."  
  
"What is it that makes the growling noise, just inside?" I asked curiously.  
  
"A Cerberus." Snape answered in an ominous tone.  
  
"As in three-headed guard-dog of Hell, Cerberus?" I asked, stunned. Snape nodded. "Cool. I wouldn't want to cross one of those. Better guard-dog than Fang, any day." I noticed that Snape barely suppressed a snort of laughter.  
  
"Do you know what's in there?" Theo asked.  
  
"Yes, of course I do. I helped protect it. But I'm not going to tell -"  
  
"We already know what it is, sir. It's a Philosopher's Stone." I said, not really meaning to interrupt, but I did, so whatya gonna do? "That's why we were so worried. We know what might happen if He did get it."  
  
"We had to tell someone, and none of the other teachers would believe a word of it." Theo added.  
  
"I do hope." Snape said, in an obey-or-die tone, "That you don't plan to acquire the Stone for yourselves?"  
  
"Nah." I said casually, "I've got plenty of money, and who wants to live forever?"  
  
"And I'm not suicidal. Only Gryffindors are stupid enough to try running a gauntlet like what Cat and Blaise figure is in that corridor." Theo said honestly.  
  
"In that case, I suggest you not concern yourselves with this matter, any more." Snape said coldly, "Now go. You should be concerning yourselves with exams. Leave the matters of life, death, and the future of humanity to those with some more experience."  
  
* * *  
  
Exams. I don't know or care how well I did. I was too busy spying on Quirrell. To hell with what Snape said, I wasn't letting my guard down for a second.  
  
After the exams ended, almost all the first-year Slytherins decided to celebrate by sunbathing and doing absolutely sod-all. Almost all of us. I preferred the shadows, but still was outside with the rest, when Blaise (the only one who had stayed inside) ran up to us, panting, "Draco, Theo, Cat ... bad ... very bad - come on." she said quickly. Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle gave us confused looks, while Milli just lay there trying to tan.  
  
I shrugged to my friends, and followed Blaise up to the school. "What happened? Who'd he kill?" Theo asked.  
  
"What is it with you?" Cat asked, "When Gryffindor lost all those points you asked which one murdered someone, and now you ask who He murdered."  
  
"I've got homicide-phobia." Theo admitted, grinning. "I want to be aware of murderers, so as to avoid them."  
  
"Whatever!" I snapped, "Blaise, spill the beans. What's wrong?"  
  
"Dumbledore just left. I saw him take off a minute ago. No idea where, but if he's flying it must be too far to Apparate safely."  
  
"Why'd he not use Floo?" Theo asked.  
  
"Duh." Cat sneered, "The Floo in the castle is only for communication - no travel. It's safer that way."  
  
"What did Snape say, Theo - it's safe as long as Dumbledore is present?" I asked, twitching slightly, "He's going to go for it while Dumbledore's away. Maybe even tonight."  
  
"Eeep." Cat squeaked.  
  
"So what can WE do about it?" Blaise asked, knowing full well that none of us had any brilliant plans for heroic deeds. Heroism is SO overrated.  
  
"Need to do SOMETHING." Theo said, beginning to panic.  
  
"I'll plant spy charms on some key people, and the corridor itself." I said, trying to think as I went, "Then we'll keep watch, and see what happens. The Stone needs a special potion to make the Elixir, so He won't be able to return immediately, if He does get it - maybe we'll have a chance to warn someone. By that point, even McGonagall would believe us."  
  
"Eyes and ears open, at all times." Theo said, "We need to be doing more than just that, though."  
  
"I'll pester Quirrell about my exams." Cat offered, "He's got to know I'm terrible at his class, and want some reassurance."  
  
"Right." I said, "We actually have a plan that doesn't involve being the heroes - this is good."  
  
We split up, Theo and Blaise heading for the common room, Cat making fast time for the staff room, and I headed up to the third floor. I was about to turn into the main corridor, which leads to the Forbidden Corridor, when I heard an unwelcome voice.  
  
"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" McGonagall bellowed. She hadn't seen me - she was yelling at someone else. I hid, flattened against the wall, listening. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"  
  
I remained hidden, until the three sets of footsteps had receded in two different directions, before turning out into the corridor, and casting a spell above the door - that way, I could see anyone who entered the Forbidden Corridor, from the Spy Ball. I quickly made myself scarce, not wanting to get caught here by either McGonagall or Quirrell ... or anyone else, for that matter.  
  
* * *  
  
I was on my way back to the common room, to commence spying, when I saw Hermione loitering outside the staff room. That didn't concern me as much as the lack of Catarina loitering outside the staff room.  
  
"Hey, Granger." I drawled, trying to sound like I hated her, just in case anyone was nearby, "What are you up to?"  
  
"Waiting to speak to Professor Flitwick. What are YOU up to." she asked suspiciously.  
  
"I'm a Slytherin. I'm always up to something. Sometimes more than one dastardly plot at a time. I can even lose track of them, occasionally." I joked, watching her reaction. She recognised that it wasn't serious. "Really, I'm just heading back to our common room, to see some of the other first-years about a little problem." well Potter called Crabbe and Goyle my 'little friends' so I have every right to use the same misconception, right back at his little clique.  
  
"What 'little problem'?" she asked sceptically.  
  
"The end of the world. I'm guessing some time tonight. Maybe early hours of the morning." I said casually.  
  
"So you know, then?" she asked.  
  
"I know more than you do." I responded coolly, "You still think it's Snape, don't you?"  
  
"Of course it's him!" she snapped back, "We've got proof."  
  
"Bet it's circumstantial." I crowed, "Our proof is conclusive, so you must be wrong. What does it matter who it is, so long as they don't get what they're after? Here's a little bit of advice for you. Don't go after him - I know it's what Gryffindors DO, but don't get yourself killed, Granger."  
  
"And what are you doing about it?" she asked sceptically.  
  
"Taking a back-seat, but we're still in the same wagon as you." I answered, "We don't want to see Him back any more than you do. The stories about Him are enough to give anyone nightmares." I looked around, still concerned about Cat's absence. "You haven't seen any of the other first-year snakes around here, have you?" I asked.  
  
"No. There was no one here when I got here, except I saw Snape going in." Hermione answered, frowning, "Why?"  
  
"Cause one of the girls was supposed to be occupying Quirrell's valuable time." I responded, getting nervous.  
  
"I don't get you. One minute, you're our enemy - the next, you're helping us. Why can't you just pick a side?" she asked, trying to give me the searching-mind-reading look, with little-to-no effect.  
  
"I am always on the same side, Granger. It's not yours, and it's not His. If I have to unite with one enemy, against the other, I'd rather be against Him. But I will not help, or be nice to, Potter. There's always more than meets the eye ... never only two sides ... life isn't black and white, Hermione ... I live in-between, where the line is faded and indefinable."  
  
"What about the good vs. evil thing?" she asked, looking confused, "There's always a conflict between the two -"  
  
I interrupted her, "There is no good and evil, Granger, only power. And power corrupts the weak-spirited. Everyone is BOTH, good and evil. Everyone has a dark side, even Dumbledore. And even if he's beaten it into submission, What's-His-Name probably has a conscience, buried somewhere."  
  
I was rewarded for my deep, meaningful theories into the human psyche, by a blank look. She may be the smartest girl in the school, but she's still as stubborn as any Gryffindor. They always work in extremes. No use trying to reason with her about it. "I don't think I'm ever going to understand you, Malfoy," she said, in what I'd swear was a sad tone.  
  
"Yeah." I said, smirking, "I like being an enigma. But one thing I will tell you for certain. If you ever need help with anything like ... well, like this ... I will always do what I can for you, on the condition Potter never finds out that I'm anything other than the evil git he thinks I am."  
  
"Why won't you let him know you're helping us?" she asked.  
  
"Because he didn't want to know me. If he hadn't judged on first impressions, he would have found out that I wear the mask." I said, smiling a genuine smile, "But I won't let his short-sightedness - I don't mean that in the literal sense - affect you. You never rejected me, even if you haven't accepted my offer of friendship, yet."  
  
"I promise, I'll not ruin your excuse to hold a grudge ... even if it is extremely petty." she said, smirking - I didn't know she could smirk - she's almost as good at it as I am. "Thank you for the offer. I will keep it in mind."  
  
I nodded, in a gesture of gratitude, "You are most welcome. I hope you manage to fix this, without any fatalities ... with the obvious exception of the criminal. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and maintain the Shadow Resistance."  
  
"The what?"  
  
"I just thought of that name, right now. It fits us perfectly." I said, pondering the concept of using it as an official term for our officially nonexistent group. "I won't tell you about the others, just in case something bad happens, but I'm not the only Slytherin against His return." I stopped talking abruptly, as the staff room door opened to reveal Snape. "I'll just be leaving, now." I said, in by best impersonation of an innocent voice, before bolting down the nearest staircase.  
  
I paused in the Entrance Hall, just long enough to cast another spy charm. Better too many than not enough.  
  
* * *  
  
As I arrived in the common room, I spotted the other three huddled in a corner.  
  
"What took you so long, Draco?" Blaise asked, in the tone that said she'd been in a panic.  
  
"I stopped to chat with someone. Nothing bad. Just a potential ally. Let's start monitoring the danger-area." I said, beckoning the others to follow, as I headed to our dorm.  
  
We kicked Crabbe and Goyle out, telling them we had important matters to discuss, and why couldn't they go and spike the Gryffindors' drinks, or something productive, anyway.  
  
The four of us sat on the floor, circled around the Spy Ball. I tapped it with my wand, "Third floor corridor." and the image appeared. The corridor was deserted. Nothing happened.  
  
And nothing continued to happen for about five minutes, before Theo announced, "This could take all night. We should take it in shifts, or something, so we don't all drop off from sheer boredom." He had a point.  
  
So that was what we did. One of us would stare at the Spy Ball, while the other three would play Exploding Snap. Then after half and hour, someone else would get a turn to be bored senseless.  
  
Theo was on Spy-duty when it happened, at about ten-thirty. "We have movement!" he said enthusiastically. The game was abandoned - all the cards were thrown into a pile, which promptly exploded. We all crowded round the Spy Ball, to see the image it was projecting.  
  
"Quirrell." Blaise said triumphantly, "We were right all along."  
  
"He's not very smart, is he?" Cat asked, "Leaving the door open, like that. Anyone might walk past, and sound the alarm." as she said this, we heard music from the Spy Ball - someone was playing a harp. Music has powers to soothe the savage beast - that must be how to get past the Cerberus. It seemed that way, because the growling and barking had stopped as soon as the music had started, and it had resumed as soon as the music stopped.  
  
"Indeed." Theo said grinning.  
  
"Except everyone's asleep." Blaise noted, "Even Snape, at this hour. He'll be taking advantage of not having exams to mark, and would not be happy to be woken."  
  
"No. He wouldn't." I said, considering the situation, "What about Dumbledore? Would he still be up?"  
  
"Probably." Blaise said, in a knowledgeable voice, "The broom journey to London would take hours - even a Nimbus 2000 would take at least three hours to get there, and the broom I saw him with was pretty old. He might only just be arriving."  
  
"So how do we get him back here, now?" Cat asked confused.  
  
"Floo?" Theo suggested.  
  
"We already covered that, Theo." Blaise said exasperated, "There's no Floo travel from Hogwarts."  
  
"The Knight Bus." I said. It wasn't a suggestion - it was a statement.  
  
"That'd work." Blaise said, her face lighting up, "So one of us takes the K.B. to the Ministry - urgent, so it'll be almost instantaneous travel - and brings Dumbledore back the same way."  
  
"Once he knows why we need him back here, he won't hesitate." Theo said, also getting excited at the prospect of a real plan, "He wouldn't, would he?"  
  
"No way. He's too good to let something like -" Cat stopped mid-sentence, "Guys - I just saw that door move ... and there's more music, again." she was right - this time it was a flute ... a very simple tune, but still music. The Cerberus had been silenced again.  
  
"Someone else is going after the Stone?" Theo asked confused.  
  
"Potter and his gang. They know as much as we do about this - except they think it's Snape instead of Quirrell - and they're Gryffindors, so they're more prone to rash acts of suicidal bravery." I said coldly.  
  
"So why couldn't we see them?" Blaise asked confused.  
  
"I have no idea, but I'd bet Galleons to Knuts that flute music was theirs." I said.  
  
"Now we have two problems." Cat said, "Quirrell going after the Stone, and Potter the Wonder-Boy is going to try to get himself killed. Dumbledore must be found. Now."  
  
"Who goes?" Theo asked, "I can't, 'cause my dad works at the Ministry."  
  
"Mine, too." I put in.  
  
"My mom works there, as well." Blaise noted.  
  
"I'll go." Cat said, sounding exasperated, as if we were being childish for not wanting our parents to know what we were up to. "My mom works at the Belfast branch, and I already told you my dad's in Azkaban, so I've no one to be afraid of at the Ministry."  
  
"Right." Blaise said, "Good luck." We all picked ourselves up, and made our way out to the exit of the common room.  
  
Theo gave an elaborate bow, and said in a pompous voice, "The future of the world rests on your shoulders. Good luck, fair lady, and safe journey."  
  
We all stared at him, "You have lost it." Blaise said.  
  
"I met this painting of a knight. He was funny, and I thought that would be, too." Theo complained.  
  
"Sir Cadogan is NOT funny." I said coldly, before turning to Cat, "Here - money - you will need to pay extra for the urgent journey." Cat took the pouch full of Sickles that I was offering, and nodded, smiling, "One more thing." I took out my wand and pointed it at her, "I want to know what happens. Vi-deo. Good luck. You'll need it."  
  
With everything organised, Cat set off, at a run, for the outdoors, to summon the Knight Bus.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 9 


	10. Lucius' Big Mistake

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.  
  
I should also say that, even though I would have thought of it anyway, students going to the Ministry of Magic to bring Dumbledore back was done before, in The Serpent's Society by Amberdulen (very good fic - I advise you to read it if you like Slytherin POVs) ... although they didn't use the Knight Bus, in that one - as far as I know, no one else has done this particular combination before - correct me if I'm wrong.  
  
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. A lot of changes have been made to this chapter - mostly the Ministry layout, but there are other changes, too ... including as usual, spelling and grammar.  
  
This is the last chapter of this part. I hope it's good enough to make you want to review it ... or if you think it's sh1t, tell me - I don't mind flames, as long as I get reviews and know people are reading it.  
  
Chapter 10 - Lucius' Big Mistake  
  
The three of us that were left had nothing better to do than watch Cat, through the Spy Ball - that's why I cast the spy charm on her. So we watched the image remotely, as Cat stepped outside, and ran down to the driveway that is often used by the horseless carriages. She stopped suddenly, for no reason anyone else might have guessed, and held her wand up in the air, over her head.  
  
It didn't take more than five seconds for a loud bang and a purple bus to arrive. Cat jumped up onto the bus, as soon as it came to a stop.  
  
"I need to get to the Ministry of Magic ... it's an emergency ... I should have been there five minutes ago ... and can you wait there to bring me back with someone else, as well?" Cat said, very quickly and clearly, before the spotty-faced conductor could even say a word.  
  
"Yeah, we can do that." he said, slightly shocked, "But emergency trips cost more. This'll be two Galleons, and six Sickles."  
  
"Fine. Just get going." Cat snapped, looking at the driver. With that, the doors closed behind her and she started to count out forty silver coins for the conductor. Let's hope Quirrell gets killed off during this incident, or that'll have been a waste of money ... it's still a lot cheaper than bribing the Beaters, though. As soon as she had put the moneybag away, the bus jumped. "That is for the two people going back, as well?" Cat asked, as they trundled to a stop outside the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic. This courtyard-like area - which seemed sealed off with the only way to go on foot being into the Ministry itself - was the designated location for magical vehicles to land, or appear, for access to the most used bureaucratic business area of magical Britain. Cat jumped out as soon as the doors of the Knight Bus opened.  
  
"She's in a hurry." the conductor could be heard muttering, behind her.  
  
Cat ran down the stairway, and skidded to a halt in the echoey foyer of the main building. She looked around, seeing no one at the security desk. There was also nothing on the incoming flights board displayed on the ceiling ... so Dumbledore must have arrived already.  
  
A few Ministry members hurried past, looking important and busy. Cat tried to get their attention but they ignored her. That is until someone grabbed her from behind, by the collar of her robes, snaring a handful of her hair in the process. "What, prey tell, would a Hogwarts student - particularly one as young as you - be doing in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic headquarters at eleven thirty at night?" I recognised that voice but the way the spy charm works meant I couldn't see him until Cat could ... still, I knew it was my father.  
  
"I - I need to -" Cat stammered fearfully.  
  
"You need to learn some sense of boundaries. You aren't allowed out of school grounds until the term ends." Father snarled, deliberately not letting her finish, "I will take you to someone who can deal with you properly." he said, as he dragged her through the main archway, to one of the many lifts, pressing the button for level one (offices of the Minister and his personal staff), "I doubt it could be a coincidence that you appear when Professor Dumbledore has just recently arrived." he continued, as he dragged her into the lift, and it started its ascent, "It may even be possible that you were responsible for the mix-up that has occurred. Thought it would be funny, did you? Couldn't resist coming down to see for yourself?" When the lift stopped, he dragged her to the door at the end of the corridor and knocked sharply. Cat had decided not to protest, since my father was taking her to Dumbledore anyway, she might as well not say anything. Smart move.  
  
"Come in." another voice I recognised. Fudge. Incompetent moron, but he still managed to get the job of Minister of Magic.  
  
Father threw the door open angrily, to show that Fudge and Dumbledore were having an in-depth discussion over why Dumbledore had shown up. Well, Fudge was having an in-depth discussion with himself about paperwork, which Dumbledore had to be present for. "I found this girl loitering in the atrium. I believe she is one of your students." Father snarled, glaring at Dumbledore, who looked up at Cat with surprise.  
  
Cat squirmed out of my father's grasp and straightened her robes indignantly. Then she looked straight at Dumbledore and spoke very quickly and clearly, as she had to the conductor on the bus, "There's a problem at Hogwarts. At least two people, only one of whom was visible, have entered the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor." that was all she needed to say.  
  
Dumbledore stood up immediately, all the humour and congeniality were swept away and replaced by a sense of authority and power that made it obvious that he was in charge. "Cornelius, I am afraid I will have to cut this conversation short. Fascinating, though I'm sure it is." Fudge looked put out but didn't seem to argue. "Lead the way, Miss Feral." and Cat bolted to the door, leading him out to the waiting Knight Bus. I was fairly surprised that he had remembered her name. Although the rumour is that he remembers every student who has ever passed through his school, in much the same way that Ollivander remembers every wand he has every sold.  
  
As the bus took off for its return journey to Hogwarts, the conductor stared, "Blimey. You said it were important but I'd no idea it was this high-level," he said to Cat. He didn't have time to say anymore, because they had already stopped mere feet from the main doors of the school and Dumbledore was marching quickly towards said doors. Cat followed, having to jog to keep up.  
  
On reaching the Entrance Hall, Dumbledore turned to her, "Thank you for alerting me, Miss Feral. I had expected one person to venture down there, but not more. I have a fair idea who these people are. You will return to your house area, now."  
  
"But -" Cat tried to protest - she obviously wanted to see what was going to happen - but Dumbledore cut her off with merely a stern stare. Cat nodded silently and ran off down the dungeon stairs.  
  
I tapped the Spy Ball, saying, "Entrance Hall." and the image switched to a view from the above the main doors, showing most of the Entrance Hall where Dumbledore was now ascending the marble staircase. Suddenly and without warning, Weasley and Hermione hurtled down the second-level flight of stairs and stopped pretty suddenly when they saw Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore." Weasley said shocked.  
  
"Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Both Gryffindors nodded dumbly, probably shocked that Dumbledore had made an appearance. Dumbledore immediately resumed his high-speed march towards the third floor. I couldn't watch him further, so we watched the Gryffindors instead.  
  
After two minutes Weasley stopped pacing and snapped, "What's taking so long?"  
  
Hermione looked up from chewing her fingernails, to say, "Calm down. Dumbledore will fix everything."  
  
Cat burst in to our dorm at that moment, "What'd I miss?"  
  
"Not much." Blaise said, not taking her eyes off the image.  
  
Another fifteen minutes passed before Dumbledore finally re-appeared. Even I was getting edgy with the tension of waiting. He was directing a levitated stretcher with Potter on it. I couldn't tell from here if he was alive or dead. Another thing that caught my attention was that Dumbledore was holding a shiny red stone in his left hand.  
  
"That's the Philosopher's Stone." Theo said awe-struck.  
  
"I wish I could just ... even just to touch it." I whispered.  
  
"Don't drool, Draco." Blaise scolded. I didn't even bother to glare at her - I was too busy watching the scene before us.  
  
Hermione had rushed to Potter's side, "He's not ... I mean. He is alive, isn't he?" she asked, staring at the immobile form of the Boy-Who-Took-Stupid-Risks.  
  
"He is alive, although I am not sure if he will remain such." Dumbledore said briskly, while moving down through the Entrance Hall towards the Hospital Wing's corridor, "We must get him to the Hospital Wing, immediately."  
  
"Where's Snape?" Weasley asked, keeping step with Dumbledore and Hermione.  
  
Dumbledore looked surprised as he answered, "Professor Snape is safely tucked up in his bed, downstairs."  
  
"Then Who -" Weasley started but Hermione interrupted.  
  
"It was Quirrell, wasn't it?" she asked, with a look that said she hadn't expected it but still knew it all along.  
  
"QUIRRELL?" Weasley asked in confused amazement.  
  
"Yes, Miss Granger, that is correct. Now, would you two please run ahead and alert Madam Pomfrey."  
  
The two Gryffindors ran off and Dumbledore - still levitating the stretcher - followed, leaving the scene lifeless again.  
  
"That's it." I said, still staring, "I can't get anything else."  
  
Cat and Blaise looked at each other, then Blaise turned to me, "We're going to sell this to the gossip ring before Granger talks to Patil and Brown." Cat nodded and the girls left with a purposeful attitude.  
  
"How the Hell are they going to get to the Ravens without getting caught?" I asked, knowing perfectly well that the Ravenclaw girls were always at the centre of any gossip ... even if I didn't bother with such things.  
  
"There's a secret passage from the girls' dorm-corridor to the same corridor in the Ravens house area." Theo explained, "It's used by the gossip ring specifically for situations like this. There's one between Lions and Huffles too. But the boys can't use them, 'cause they can't even get into the girls' corridors."  
  
"How'd you know?" I asked sceptically.  
  
"My sister told me. And she knows more tunnels than anyone else in Ravenclaw. She's friends with the Weasley twins, who can get anywhere if they want to." Theo said smirking.  
  
"That could be a useful source of information." I said, pondering the concept.  
  
"Problem is she never tells me anything useful. She'll only tell me about something if she's sure it's of absolutely no value to me," he said in a sulky tone.  
  
"Right." I wasn't really feeling like thinking about it now, "Go to sleep." I said, dragging myself towards my own bed.  
  
Theo made his way, also exhausted, to his bed and collapsed without bothering to get changed. I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.  
  
* * *  
  
The next day I made my way up to the Hospital Wing (abandoning Crabbe and Goyle to their own devices - last I saw, Theo was going over some parchment with them) with the intention of finding out if Potter had survived the night. It would be a shame if he'd died after we'd gone to so much trouble. I admit - I only did it to stop Failed-Evil-Overlord from returning but as I've said before - I don't want Potter dead ... he's far too much fun to provoke.  
  
When I arrived in the Hospital Wing I found the place empty, save for Potter who was lying on one of the beds looking lifeless, and Dumbledore sitting near the bed keeping a vigil.  
  
"Is he alive?" I asked.  
  
Dumbledore looked up at me and smiled, a tired smile that said he'd not slept all night, "He is recovering." he answered, giving me a searching look that put Snape's mind-reading-trick to shame. "Would I be correct in assuming that you were involved in calling me back here?" I nodded silently. "And I believe you had two more accomplices as well, am I right?" I nodded again. "I believe Mr Potter owes you his life."  
  
"I don't want that." I snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh, "I don't want to be pegged as a hero. I'm not the sort of person who does well in that light."  
  
He gave me that calculating look again, "What are you interested in, Mr Malfoy?" he asked calmly. I couldn't stop myself from noticing that as he said that he produced the red stone, which I had seen in the Spy Ball last night, from a pocket in his robes. I stared at it in amazement for a moment. "Everyone who is Sorted into Slytherin house has ambitions for something."  
  
"I - I don't really know." I admitted, "I want to make a difference but I don't want to be acclaimed a hero." I was still staring at the Stone but I was trying not to - really I was, "Is that -?" I seemed to have been unable to not ask.  
  
"The Philosopher's Stone. Yes." Dumbledore said calmly, "Professor Snape has informed me of what you had worked out, so I didn't see any harm in letting you see this."  
  
I still couldn't stop staring at the Stone. I don't know why. It just drew my attention, like a shiny coin attracts a magpie. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at something else. The wall made a good substitute. "I don't know why you've kept that. It's too dangerous. If He tried to get it again, next time He might succeed."  
  
I could feel Dumbledore's gaze but didn't meet it. "It is strange, how so many would choose this over any other treasure - infinite money and eternal life - yet you are not even asking to hold it?" I think he was trying to test me. I didn't want to let myself touch that Stone - if I did, I might never want to let it go.  
  
"I've already got plenty of money." I said, with a hint of bemusement, "And even if I didn't, I could earn it easily. I'm not the lazy spoilt brat I like to give the impression of being." I turned to face Dumbledore and smiled, "And who wants to live forever? It'd get very boring. One of the main reasons life is exciting is because it's short and you never know when it'll end ... of course, self-preservation is a major factor in most of my life-choices but that Stone would make it too easy. I'm not afraid of death, I just have a lot of things I want to do before it happens."  
  
Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow and smiled, "I am impressed, Mr Malfoy. Your morals outstretch your chosen path, by far."  
  
"I don't want to be the good guy. It's no fun. You don't get the chance to make a single mistake and your expected to be invincible." I said, looking at Potter now, even though I was directing my words at Dumbledore, "I may have morals but I prefer to stay in the safety of the shadows - shades of grey. Granger didn't understand it and I don't think Potter would either ... do you know what I mean?"  
  
"I understand completely." Dumbledore said, placing the Stone on the table between where he sat and I stood, "Everyone has the potential for darkness and light, both. Which way would you choose? The easy way or the right way?"  
  
"I don't know that one yet. I don't even know which one is which." I said smirking as I picking up the Stone. I turned it over in my hands and looked into its depths, "I guess I'll have to burn that bridge when I cross it." I said, trying not to make sense even though I'm sure he knew what I meant. If I had to definitively pick a side, I'd be unable to go back from whichever side I chose. That's why I've tried to stay neutral, so far.  
  
Dumbledore watched me carefully, as I examined the Stone. I finally set it down again, where Dumbledore had placed it, "I'd be careful not to leave that lying around if I were you, sir." I said smirking.  
  
Dumbledore smiled as if satisfied that I had passed the test. He picked up the Stone and put it back in his pocket, then said, "Your little bit of espionage may have broken a few school rules but you did play a major role in the events of last night. Even if you do not wish to be acknowledged for your deeds, and I am sure your friends feel the same, I will give twenty points to Slytherin for what the four of you have done." is there ANYTHING in this school that he doesn't know about?  
  
I smiled at him, "Thank you, sir." I said, before trying to turn the conversation away from myself, "You don't suppose he'll wake up for the Quidditch match tomorrow, do you?" I asked, looking at Potter.  
  
"I do doubt that, even if he wakes in time, Madam Pomfrey would let him go that soon." Dumbledore said, "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I really don't know who I want to win." I admitted, turning to see that he gave me a questioning look and I'm sure he must have thought, for a moment, that I might have been talking about something other than Quidditch, "If Gryffindor win I'll be able to make the team next year, for sure. If Ravenclaw win then Slytherin will win the Quidditch Cup again."  
  
* * *  
  
And speaking of Quidditch, the Lions and Ravens match was the very next day, as you may have figured out. I had gotten a front-row seat in the Slytherin stands - all the first years had.  
  
It was actually very funny. The Gryffindors had no reserves this year, so one of the Chasers had to play Seeker. They were left with only two Chasers and their Seeker-substitute was inexperienced. Ravens, on the other hand, had a full team and a game plan that I hadn't seen in their last match. They were really running the Gryffindors into the ground. The game lasted for an hour before the Ravens' Seeker made an easy catch and it was the worst loss Gryffindor has suffered in three hundred years.  
  
The entire Slytherin stands were cheering wildly. "Thank you, Cho Chang!" Theo yelled at the top of his voice, to the second-year Ravens' Seeker.  
  
"We love you, Chang!" someone behind me yelled.  
  
I caught her eye and mimed blowing her a kiss, just to see her reaction. She pulled a face at me and flew off to meet up with the rest of her team.  
  
Then I turned around to see Flint stand up on his seat in the back row and tap his wand to his throat. He then raised his right fist in what looked like it should go with a war-chant and yelled at the top of his now-magically-enhanced voice, "SNAKES RULE AND LIONS DROOL!" the rest of the team stood up along the back row and stared yelling and jeering.  
  
The Weasley twins both gave Flint a one-handed obscene gesture. Flint returned the favour by doing the same with both hands. Wood's reply to this was a gesture very few would recognise but I was able to identify it as sign language ... literally translated as 'F off'.  
  
It might be said that there was some hostility between the Snakes and the Lions, mightn't it?  
  
* * *  
  
After the match, Theo, Blaise, Cat, and I were walking past the Hospital Wing when Dumbledore left.  
  
"Have you been in there since I visited?" I asked, out of pure curiosity.  
  
"No. I have been attending to some other important business." he answered, smiling at us, "And I did attend the Quidditch match, as well."  
  
"You saw Flint make an idiot of himself, then?" Theo asked grinning.  
  
Dumbledore did not answer that ... and I didn't expect him to. Instead he suggested that he had something we might be interested in seeing before it was removed from Hogwarts for good.  
  
Being Slytherins, we will rarely give up an opportunity to find out about something that might be of interest, or use, to us. We all decided to follow him as he led us to a small, disused classroom. Therein stood a large, ornate, gold-framed mirror.  
  
"Wow." Blaise said, looking up at it.  
  
I spotted the inscription on the top of it, which read, 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'. I frowned, not sure how that should be pronounced.  
  
"This is the mirror of Erised." Dumbledore said, "Can any of you figure out what it is, without stepping in front of it?" he asked, holding his hand out to stop Cat from examining the mirror from the front.  
  
I continued to look at the inscription ... then I thought about what Dumbledore had said - Erised ... it was the mirror of Erised and MIRRORS show the reverse ... Desire. With a fair deal of concentration, I read the entire inscription in reverse, "I show not your face but your hearts desire."  
  
"Very good, Mr Malfoy." Dumbledore said, smiling, "I thought it might help you decide what path to take if you could see what this can show you. It is your choice and you do not need to look at it if you do not want to."  
  
"You think this will help us choose sides." Theo said flatly, "That's it, isn't it? You want to know whether you can trust us or if we really want something dark and sinister?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't react as badly as a lesser man might have, "You could put it that way, however, I was more interested in helping you find your own path, since you all seem to be stuck between sides."  
  
"I like my shadows very much, thank you." I said coldly.  
  
Cat, however, stepped in front of the mirror. She gasped and stepped back, "No way! I don't want HIM!" she yelled.  
  
"What'd you see?" Theo asked curiously.  
  
"My family ... my whole family. My mom and dad, happy and trusting each other ... and my godfather friends with dad, like he used to be before ... it'd never happen." Cat said horrified. "I thought I'd gotten over not having him around ... I don't want to see that, ever again!" she yelled, running into the corner away from the mirror.  
  
"Ouch." Theo said in sympathy, "It could show something we don't want to admit, for all of us." then he shrugged and stepped in front of the mirror, himself.  
  
"How can you just do that?" Blaise asked, "Say how bad it could be, then do it anyway?"  
  
"Because I want to know. If knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss, I'd rather have power over my destiny than be blissfully unaware of what's sneaking up behind me." Theo said, staring at the mirror. He reached out to something in awe. "Wow. That is cool." then he snorted, "I wish. Shows how shallow I am." he shrugged and wandered over to Cat.  
  
"You're not going to tell us?" Blaise asked looking at Theo who shook his head. She then stepped in front of the mirror, too. "Oh my ... that's not what I expected." she said, staring. Then she turned around and joined the others.  
  
"Mr Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, "Do you want to see what the mirror has to show you? You don't have to if you don't want to."  
  
I stared at the mirror from an angle - I couldn't see anything in it from here. I didn't know whether I should look in it or not. What if I saw something I'd rather not? What if I saw something that I could never have? What if I find out more about myself than I bargained for? "There are so many different things I think I want ... if I saw what I really wanted it could change my outlook on life forever. That's not always a good thing." I said cautiously. "But I don't want to give up this opportunity. It's so difficult to see inside your own soul, so to simply look in the mirror and see what you really want most in the world..." I stepped in front of the mirror, staring at the writing across the top for a minute. Did I even want to see my 'hearts desire'? Didn't I already know what I'd see, anyway? I didn't want to be proven right ... that was the height of it. I still hadn't admitted it to myself, yet.  
  
I lowered my gaze to see myself, older, a prefect, but that wasn't the point ... anything but my father's image and free, out from under his shadow, but that wasn't the point either ... the point was that she was there with me ... also older and a prefect ... but it was HER. I had tried denial ... but that just wasn't an option anymore, now was it?  
  
* * *  
  
That evening we celebrated. The Quidditch Cup was ours and the whole house was in a party mood. Dinner was rowdy to say the least. Crabbe and Goyle arrived about two minutes after the meal had begun ... not normal for them to miss a moment of gluttony that is offered to them. They were both grinning evilly.  
  
"You did it, then?" Theo asked. Crabbe and Goyle both nodded.  
  
"Did what?" I asked.  
  
"The pumpkin juice thing." Crabbe said, looking as smug as stupidity can be.  
  
I watched sceptically, but when everyone had started their drinks and when the Gryffindors were the only ones who started laughing uncontrollably, I picked up my goblet. Theo was to my right, Pansy to my left, Cat and Blaise opposite Theo and me. "To victory ... and the future. May we always win when it really counts," I said smirking. Theo, Cat and Blaise raised their goblets as well. We weren't just celebrating the Quidditch victory ... we were celebrating our own secret victory. A victory that we'd never get credit for, but we knew we did it and that's what really counts.  
  
* * *  
  
But the bad new came soon. Potter woke up, but that wasn't the problem. He made it to the Leaving Feast and the announcements that had been delayed so that Precious Potter could hear them really screwed up what had, until then, been a good day.  
  
You'd think a hundred and sixty point lead would confirm victory for the House Cup, wouldn't you? Well The-Boy-Who-Nearly-Got-A-Toilet-Seat-For-A-Get-Well-Gift and his little gang (somehow including Longbottom) all got really high scores of points. Fifty (Weasley), fifty (Hermione), sixty (Potter), and ten (Longbottom) ... that's just not fair. We saved his life and we only got twenty points for it, between us. And they only won by ten points, too. Curse Longbottom ... preferably literally.  
  
* * *  
  
End of chapter 10  
  
End of Book 1  
  
Part two can be found at this address: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1401353 


End file.
